


Painting Flowers

by RedHerring94



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media TypesThe Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Aternate Universe, M/M, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Tags will be added, monster hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHerring94/pseuds/RedHerring94
Summary: Witchers don't get married. And Geralt had always been alone. So far he could be sure of only two things:the omega's eyes were blue, like the flowers his mother grew. And when he smiled he out-shined the sun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 186
Kudos: 1122





	1. Butcher

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note. Hope this is good enough, I'll try posting once a week, though that may change since i only have about 5 chapters pre-written. I only watched the series, so this will be a "everything is different except the names" type of story, I am open to criticism and please do correct me if some facts are wrong.  
> Enjoy!!

_Today will be a beautiful day._

"The Butcher of Blavikan?" He asked breathlessly. His uncle stared at him carefully, like he was staring at someone about to pour accelerant onto a burning pyre. He opened his mouth to speak when Jaskier interrupted him.

"You're selling me to the Butcher of Blavikan?" He spoke louder, indignantly, dramatic as always.

"I'm hardly selling you, it's just a wedding." His uncle puffed out.

"Just a wedding to the Butcher of Blavikan!"

"Well saying it louder won't change it. You accepted this, you volunteered for this."

"No! I volunteered to marry a man who would protect our home. Not the damn butcher of bloody Blavikan!" Jaskier paced in his small room as he spoke, the same six steps, back and forth. He then turned to his uncle with accusing eyes.

"You lied to me!"

"Now I did no such thing! I have never lied to you. I told the truth, this man will protect us. I simply didn't say he was a Witcher-"

"That's lying." Jaskier interrupted. After two more steps he gave up his pacing to collapse onto his bed. "He's going to kill me." He moaned.

"He'll do no such thing, not if he doesn't want the whole town set upon him."

"Can I remind you of his role in Blaviken? Hint, he was the Butcher!" His uncle sighed, closed his eyes, and not for the first time prayed for strength to deal with his young nephew.

"Look, I met him a few night ago in Balefurd. He seems a good man, and he considered the town's proposition. We need this. Aleria needs his help. Who better than a Witcher to fight off this accursed thing." His uncle, ever patient explained. Jaskier knew he was right. The monster, whatever it was, seemed to be having a fun time decimating the majority of their crops, something that the small trading town of Aleria was suffering from greatly. There was barely enough food for the people living in it, much less for the neighboring towns where their earnings came from.

"He should be here tonight. To meet you." His uncle's tone changed, it was slower, dragged on. He liked this arrangement as much as Jaskier. "And if you please him-"

"Oh, if _I_ please _him_?" Jaskier snapped, his eyes red, on the verge of spilling over.

"Julian - Jaskier," his uncle sighed, "when people look at you, they assume you are helpless. We both know you are not. Your mother made sure of that." He smiled, and even Jaskier managed a small curve of the lips. His uncle took his hand.

"You have to know, this wouldn't have been my first choice. It wouldn't be my last choice either. If there were any other way..." He trailed off.

"I know." jaskier sniffed. In reality he had chosen this, as his uncle said. He had been present at the last town meeting, heard every single idea that came to pass in someone's mind.  
The first time a militia had been formed, soon after the attacks started. At least two dozen able-bodied young men had marched into the woods surrounding the village. None had returned. Well, one man returned, but everyone suspected he had gone mad from the experience, he spoke of a terrible beast made of heads and claws and wings, something that defied imagination.

They then built a wall around the town, hoping it would somehow discourage the beast from traveling too close. It took weeks to erect, but it was fruitless. The monster unsurprisingly bore a hole in the wood and stone to burn fields and pastures in it's wake. This time it took people with it.  
It had done all that damage, and yet, nobody had even seen the thing. It seemed invisible, didn't leave tracks other than destruction, it didn't even cast a shadow.

There was nothing left to do, except leave. Jaskier's uncle fought tooth and nail against that, making a grand speech about how their grandparents had founded the town after defeating a giant bird and taking its nest. A silly fairy tail he used to tell Jaskier to help him fall asleep. But it seemed to motivate the townspeople enough to find any solution. It seemed there would be no conclusion to this tragedy, until a farmer stood up.

"I know of a man, a hunter; he's been known to take care of monsters and the like. We can hire him, it's my understanding that he is capable of tracking almost anything." He was followed by low murmurs of agreement.

"Thank you, Ruden." Said his uncle. "This could be a possible solution, if what you say is true. But this leads to a new problem. How would we pay this man? We have no coin left, our crops are barely enough to feed us, what could we offer him as compensation?"

More murmurs, followed by half-hearted suggestions. Perhaps they could spare some crops, if nobody minded starving for a few months. And the livestock, surely the hunter could make use of a couple cows and chickens. Some people agreed, others didn't, but most of everyone was just desperate.  
Jaskier remembered rubbing his face, overwhelmed by the cacophony of the people surrounding him. After a few minutes of everyone arguing back and forth a new voice rose above everyone else's. The man didn't even bother standing.

"Is the man in need of a bride?" He belted out. The room went silent, everyone finding his sudden cry very strange and surprising; all eyes turned to him.  
He was slouched in his seat, on the far right of the hall. When everyone had turned to him he shrugged.

"Every man must need a bride. If we have no coin for him surely a woman would do." Several people gasped.

"What are you implying Clovis?" Asked his uncle. Clovis straightened up in his seat.

"It's just as I said it, we offer him a bride as compensation, it would tie him to the town; then, when the beast is finally defeated the hunter and his mate will be on their merry way, back to wherever he came from."

"What you are suggesting is that we sacrifice one of our own?" At this everyone seemed to object, everyone who had an unmarried sister or daughter had something colourful to say on the subject, though it didn't seem to deter Clovis. Jaskier felt suddenly very sick.

"Yes! For the good of Aleria! How can you all sit here and expect everyone to either starve or be gutted by an invisible monster! What other choice do we have?" Clovis became more passionate as he spoke, his voice growing, not so much in volume but n strength. Everyone remained silent. Jaskier's uncle waited for any more objections, when there were none he started speaking again.

"This is a very serious situation. One that requires a very serious solution. What Clovis is suggesting cannot be taken lightly. If we decide to approachit, _if_ , I obviously cannot ask any of you to make such a sacrifice. We will take a vote soon, about the best course of action. I'll let you take this evening to think things through. Whatever you decide, we will get through this."

He stepped down, the meeting over,everyone slowly started gathering themselves, but Clovis wasn't done.

"If I may, one last thing. Perhaps this could help narrow down the choice." He paused, waited for everyone's attention to be on him. "Ruden, the man you speak of, the hunter. I think I may know what kind of man he is. Correct me if I'm wrong, I think he may be an Alpha. And they only want one thing."

For some reason he seemed highly amused by this, while everyone else seemed rather distressed. With good reason.  
There were only three unmated Omegas in the whole town. Two of them were girls, and they were both far too young to be even thinking about mating and bonding. That only left one. Jaskier himself.

He usually wasn't in the habit of thinking things through before he acted, and he wasn't thinking now, because he still felt sick and dizzy and his legs barely worked as he stood up.

"Uncle." He called for his attention. "Uncle. I'll do it."


	2. Lonesome Rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 2. Hope you enjoy.

Geralt had always been alone. Of course, it was the ideal arrangement for his line of work. He travelled the continent and never stayed in one place for more than a few days, if he was able; on more than one occasion he’d been practically run out of towns the same day he arrived. The only thing travelling faster than him was word of mouth.

On occasion he would have company, in the form of whores in brothels, a shared hunt on the rare occasions he ran into another witcher, and then there was Yennefer.

Their few encounters had been intense but brief and every time they parted Geralt felt a little more consumed by them. As much as he was fond of her he knew they would never bring each other happiness, there were things the sorceress wished for that Geralt could never give her. So as soon as dawn would come Geralt was already on the road, trying to make as much distance as possible in as little time as Roach was able.

Being alone was all Geralt knew, it was all he ever wanted. It was easier. He couldn’t even imagine how tedious it would be to have someone constantly underfoot, the distraction it would cause, the slowness… the pain, if anything ever happened to them. No, being alone was the best option for everyone. And yet…

_The omega in the woods will be with you always._

He would be lying if he said he had never ached for some sort of connection, something deeper than what he found at brothels, something more permanent than random meetings with his kin, and something completely opposite from what he had with Yen. What they had was based on power and destruction. He dreamed of tender touches born of affection. But he would never admit that to anyone, or himself.

_They are your destiny._

And as Destiny would have it, that fickle bitch, he would just so happen to be in the on place she wanted him to be to start the cataclysmic chapter he had been unknowingly running from.

Balefurd was a typically small village, like any other; he had arrived at sundown, and after finding no for bounties decided to treat himself to a night at the tavern.

Few other people were in there with him, but he still chose to sit in the darkest corner, as was his habit. Nobody payed him attention and he didn’t spare a thought to them, just silently sat, half a tankard of ale he could barely taste, listening to the quiet chatters of the other patrons. He would be more than content if the rest of the night passed by in such a way.

“Are you the Witcher?” Came a voice in front of him. Geralt looked up, three middle aged betas were standing in front of him.

“Who’s asking?” Taking that as invitation the men simply sat down at his table. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he really wanted a quiet night in.

“The name is Toben, these are Ruden and Camrin.” The one on the left gestured to each in turn. Geralt just stared and waited for Toben to continue.

“Well sir, I’ll get straight to the point. Our town, Aleria, is being attacked by something. We were hoping you would help us.” He was short and direct, something that Geralt found rare and refreshing. He took a sip of his ale.

“What’s attacking?” He grunted out. The three men glanced at each other.

“That’s the thing, we don’t know. Nobody has ever seen it, it attacks at night, burns our fields and more recently it’s been taking people, only we never find any bodies. We are desperate, the fields are our lifeblood, can you help us?”

Geralt hummed; an unknown monster meant countless nights out in the wild, sleeping in the mud without a soul in sight. It sounded perfect. “How much are you willing to pay? I take half upfront.” He asked. At this the men tensed and looked at each other awkwardly. Toben cleared his throat.

“Well, the village has no coin left; everything has been used up trying to stop this thing ourselves. And everything we would sell has gone to feed our people…” He paused to rummage through a satchel at his side, pulled out a scrap of parchment about the size of his hand. He looked at it with a sad fondness. “There’s an Omega-“

“I only accept coin.” Geralt interrupted, making to stand.

“No, please! Please wait!” Toben stopped him by putting his arm out. “Please just… just look at him, that’s all I ask.” He begged and held out the parchment.

Geralt sighed, but he heard the desperation in the mans’ voice, saw it in his eyes. He took the paper and turned it over. It was a likeness of a young boy, the colours in it faded and dull.

“My nephew.” Said Toben. “His name is Julian, he turned twenty last winter. He has a good voice, sings beautifully…” He spoke slowly and sadly; this monster seemed to have put everyone in a precarious situation, enough to make a man hand over his own flesh and blood to someone who many people considered just as bad as the creatures he killed.

In the picture the boy seemed a few years younger than Toben had said, his cheeks round with youth, his features looked gentle, his lips soft.

“He would make you happy.” Tobens’ voice broke him out of his staring contest, or in Geralts’ case, glaring contest.

“What do you suggest I do with hm?” He asked returning the likeness.

“Marry him.” Toben answered simply.

Geralt scoffed, but realized that the man was serious. What kind of solution was that? Marriage was the last thing he expected, it wasn’t even on the list. He wasn’t supposed to want this, Witchers didn’t get married, they didn’t have mates, they didn’t love. He glanced at the picture again.

Perhaps he could stop by the village, kill the monster and get away with changing the arrangement, perhaps once the deed was done they would be more reasonable in paying him some other way. He sighed, making his decision.

“I’ll come to Aleria. See about the monster, then I’ll decide.” He told the men. Their faces lit up.

“Thank you! Thank you Witcher, you are saving us!” After a couple more minutes of them professing their gratitude and ironing out the details of Geralts’ arrival they finally made to leave, when Toben turned to him one last time.

“What is your name Witcher?” He asked. He hesitated to answer.

“Geralt. Of Rivia.” And of course the men recognized him now. A brief look of horror crossed the mans’ face before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	3. The ones we meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who commented. You made me smile for the whole week!!  
> Here's number 3, hope you like it.

Jaskier had resolved to spend his last day of freedom locked up in his room, crying. After almost ten minutes of this he realized he wasn’t patient enough to sit around moping, so he decided to wander around, his uncle had advised him to take the day to rest and prepare for the Witchers’ arrival in a few hours, and he intended to do that by annoying as many people as possible.

He started with his younger sister; their uncle raised them after their mother died. Jillian was in her room, altering an old dress, so that it would fit better; it was a pale blue thing, the bodice covered in embroidered flowery patterns, laces and ribbons decorated the back in criss-cross patterns.

She hadn’t worn it since a previous wedding a couple years ago, and now it seemed she had grown out of it, especially in the bust area. Unfortunately they had no money to buy anything new.

“Is that what you’re wearing to my wedding? You’re going to look like a stuffed sausage!” He announced himself, walking in and dumping himself on her bed. She threw him a look.

“Better than looking like a stuffed toad.” She answered. Jaskier hummed and watched her for a few moments.

“Are you excited?” She asked.

“No.” He said simply.

“Why not? We thought this day would never come. Certainly not with any of the alphas from here, they all hate you.”

“You wound me.” Jaskier gasped, but a second later he was smiling. He worked hard to keep all those boys away from him, and he was proud of that fact. His sister finished her stitching and joined Jaskier on the bed, admiring her work.

“So what do you expect?” she asked.

“I expect that’s what they get for messing with me and my own.”

“No. About the Witcher. What do you expect?”

He opened his mouth to answer but didn’t quite know what to say. All the tales he’d heard told of an eight foot giant with horns, an insatiable hunger that often led them to eat the monstrous creatures they killed; there was even a son the children sang, that if you weren’t asleep in bed on a night the Witcher was intown, he would climb into your window and chop you to pieces. He wasn’t really looking forward to spending a wedding night with such a man.

“I suppose I’ll give him the best night of his life, he’ll fall madly in love with me and we’ll have a dozen pups to spoil. Happily ever after.” He declared. Jillian laughed with him for a moment but sobered up quickly.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry.” She whispered. He shrugged.

“I did it for us. For everyone. Can’t let my baby sister get eaten by monsters, can I?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and for a while they just sat together.

“Uncle was looking for you. He said he has something to give you.” She told him. He sighed dramatically.

“Best go see what it’s about then. Can’t keep him waiting.” He got up, ready to leave and paused by the door. “That really is awful!” He pointed at the dress.

“I know.” Jillian sighed.

* * *

His uncle’s house was one of the biggest buildings in the village. It wasn’t too tall, but it had three bedrooms and a kitchen separate from the man front room. It was placed right between the church, which doubled as town hall, and a bakery, which meant Jaskier was often woken up by the smells of fresh bread and sweet treats.

The small square in front of them was paved with cobblestones, and usually they weren’t very well taken care of, weeds and grass poked through. But today, everything was different. The cobblestone had been cleared and even seemed scrubbed. People were carrying out tables, for the feast that would follow the wedding.

The outside of the church was being decorated with yellow and green ribbons, later on it would be with fresh flowers, and Jaskier could already envision the decorated arches on the path leading into the church.

People were running about the place, carrying bundles of cloth to be washed and prepared; looking around himself Jaskier felt dizzy. He quickly made his way across the square, trying not to look too closely at what people were doing.

He found his uncle a few minutes later by the inn, he was talking to the wife of the owner, he started to make his way over.

“Well, if it isn’t the bride to be.” Said someone from behind him. Jaskier turned to see a spotty alpha and his two friends. Modred.

“Moddy, I thought I smelled cow dung.” Jaskier responded eyeing the cart behind the boys, filled with, a he said, cow dung.

“Funny. We were just talking about your upcoming nuptials. About your wedding night.” He sneered. The thing about Modred was that he made it his life goal to torment Jaskier ever since the omega placed a perfectly aimed kick to his balls at the age of eight.

“Really? And I suppose I get to hear all about your conversation now, joy.” Jaskier put on a bored tone, going as far as rubbing his eyes, to hide the fact that he was actually uncomfortable.

“Do you know what they say about witchers? About how they act in the bedroom? Well I hear they have a cock so large it’ll rip you in half just looking at it.”

“I heard they like to cut up their partners sex just before.” Said one of his friends, Jaskier didn’t know their names, he often referred to them as dung beetles.

“I could help you, if you like, stretch you out, make you ready for the Butcher.” Modred continued, smiling in a greasy way.

“Oh Moddy, how generous of you to offer, but everyone knows you don’t have a prick. Just a pasty white cunt.” Modreds’ face fell.

“Why don’t you come over here and feel it for yourself?”

“I did, remember?” Jaskier said and waved his foot around in a kicking motion. “By the way, did your balls ever drop back down after that?” Modred stepped forward, his face contorted in anger and humiliation, but stopped as a hand was placed on Jaskiers’ shoulder.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting.” Came his uncle’s voice. “Modred, hard at work I see. How’s your father?” He asked in a polite voice but Jaskier could hear the subtle passive aggressiveness underneath it.

“Fine sir.” Modred replied simply, his jaws just a little clenched.

“Hm, well, give him my regards. Come along Jaskier, I need to show you something.” He was led away, the hand still on his shoulder, and he barely stopped himself from sticking out his tongue at Modred and his dung beetles.

He led Jaskier into the tavern entrance, across the room toward the stairs that led to the rooms. The inn was the biggest building in the village, standing three floors high, it was considered the pride and jy of the town. The ground floor was for the tavern and kitchen, where most locals spent the night drinking and eating; the two floors above it were dedicated to rooms for passing travelers, six in total, four on the first floor, and two on the second, where his uncle was taking him.

The room they walked in was very large, at least twice his own room, with a large bed against one wall, flanked by two windows that let in the light beautifully. The opposite wall had a fireplace in it, the mantle of it intricately carved. A honeymooner’s room.

“This is where you and the Witcher will be staying, until he’s in town.” His uncle informed him, which made sense, they couldn’t exactly stay in his small room.

“I’ll have your things brought over…” His uncle continued, Jaskier simply nodded, still looking around; the room looked clean, if a bit bare.

“There’s one last thing you need to have.” His uncle said after a heavy sigh. He picked up a brown paper package from the bed, handed to Jaskier.

“This belonged to your mother.” He sat on the bed and unfolded the paper around the package; inside was the cleanest, whitest garment he had ever seen. He pulled it out, having to stand to allow the whole length of it to unfold, and Jaskier immediately recognized what it was.

The closest thing it could be compared to was a long night shirt; it wasn’t white, as Jaskier had first seen, but sheer, almost see-through, the fabric o fine and soft it felt like water running through his fingers. The collar was wide and low, the sleeves long, and down the front of it, from collar to bottom hem, was open, dividing the center of the shirt in half, held together by thin silk threads, easily rippable.

It was a wedding shift, for one use only, Although this one seemed to have been carefully repaired. In short, Jaskier was to wear it on his wedding night, and have it ripped off of him by his Alpha. It was a traditional garment and Jaskier thought it both beautiful and sickening.

“Ah… Yes. Right then.” He coughed awkwardly after seeing what it was. His uncle shifted uncomfortably, no doubt from having just given his own nephew the outfit he would be losing his virginity in.

“I suppose… thank you?” Jaskier stuttered, slowly returning the shift back into the paper packaging.

“Yes. Well I’ll leave you to get ready, washed and all that…” His uncle trailed off, not quite meeting his eyes for very long, before rushing out the room.

* * *

Jaskier couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had been so thoroughly scrubbed as he was today. Not even as a child when he would stumble in a particularly thick puddle.

Jilly had helped him with the bath, to her annoyance, and had angrily used the brush with a little too much force, and now his skin was tingly and glowy, itchy where his fanciest clothes rubbed against him.

All of this was for the Witcher, he had to look and smell his bet, which in his opinion didn’t matter, since his mood was souring the whole room.

He was anxious and a little afraid if he was being honest, he was afraid the Witcher would be big and ugly, and would treat him terribly; it might have been a shallow thought, especially after he decided to volunteer, but he had always dreamed his Alpha to be a handsome traveler, a lover of music and poetry, and together they would travel the continent, see the wonders of the world. Anywhere was better than this town anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door making him jump a little.

The three of them had been waiting in the main room of the house, waiting for the man to arrive, his uncle at first had tried to make idle conversation, but soon gave up when he noticed that neither Jaskier or Jilly were in the mood for senseless chatter; so the silence had turned tense and oppressive.

Until the knocking was heard.

His uncle went to the door, Jaskier swallowed thickly, took a deep breath and stood up, smoothing down his outfit. It was a little tight, meant to compliment his thin waist and wide hips. He briefly wondered if the man would even be able to fit through the door when he walked in.

Jaskier wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, rumors of Witchers were varied and often seemed exaggerated, even to him. Rumors of the Butcher of Blaviken even more so. But as the man stood before him, Jaskier would probably never admit that he was taken by surprise.

There were no horns, no blood red eyes, no yellow saliva running down enormous jowls. He wasn’t even wearing armor. Instead he looked like an ordinary man, a big man, heavy set and not much taller than Jaskier himself.

The only things that were immediately out of the ordinary were the colour of his hair and eyes. Hs hair was white, came down to his shoulders and was pulled back from his face with a tie. His eyes were the colour of molten gold, the pupils slit vertically like a cats’, or a snake.

Jaskie felt like shivering under the intense gaze the man was giving him, looking him up and down, pausing for a few seconds on his face; the Witcher was frowning, and Jaskier couldn’t tell if it was in displeasure or something else.

Then, just as it started, the ordeal was over. The Witcher turned to his uncle and said, in a voice like gravel and thunder “We have a deal.” And walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	4. A Place called Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for the comments and kudos!  
> Keep them coming!  
> This chapter is a little shorter I'm afraid.

It was well past sundown when Geralt road into Aleria. The small town was quite hidden away, almost kept secret; if it weren’t famous for its major production and commerce it would be lost in a fairy tale.

The path leading into the village was framed by a wooden fence, and for the last mile or so someone seemed to have decorated it in white ribbons. White was a wedding colour.

The first thing he saw coming in were the farming lands, on either side of him big extensive fields, and he could almost imagine how in ordinary circumstances there would be hundreds of acres of crops growing in neat, organized manners; but now, even in the dark, he could see the whole land had been burned almost to the root. There were a few creatures, off the top of his head, that were capable of this.

As he road further into the village, past more ruined fields, he spotted here and there signs and decorations for the upcoming wedding. Apparently Toben had failed to mention that Geralt had yet to make his decision; either that or the man was simply so confident in his own nephew, that he figured the wedding would be a sure thing.

Either way he supposed he would have to set the man straight. Although he now couldn’t think of anything else the village could give him instead. Toben hadn’t been exaggerating, the town was in great need of him.

He passed by what used to be an orchard, all that remained were two trees and a bunch of stumps here the others had been cut down.

After a few minutes he made it into the village proper, not a soul was to be seen, which was to be expected he supposed, the monster only attacked at night. What he did find strange was the fact that all of the houses and buildings seemed untouched by the destruction, and that didn’t sound usual to the behaviour of most creatures he knew about.

As he neared the main square he frowned at yet more preparations set up for the wedding.

He stopped by Toben’s house, between the church and what he assumes was the bakery, unmounted Roach and knocked on the door. Toben himself opened it and with a bow of his head and a muttered “Witcher” he was ushered inside.

It seemed a modest enough home, despite its large size.

“He’s through here, come.” After closing the door Toben led him into a living area, where the Omega was already standing, waiting.

The likeness he was shown gave him no justice, for one he looked a few years older, his cheeks weren’t as round but his skin still looked soft and warm. His dark hair had a reddish tint to it, he could see it even in the poor light of the fireplace, he smelled of sunshine and fresh dry earth, he smelled clean and Gerald felt a small wave of shame at his own scruffy appearance. And his eyes…

Gerald had walked in with the intention of calling the whole thing off; he would do the job for free if he had to. But the Omega’s eyes were blue, like a cloudless sky, like the flowers hi mother used to grow in her garden, and Gerald found himself very week suddenly.

Witchers didn’t get married.

_They are your destiny._

Before he could stop himself he turned to Toben.

“We have a deal.” He told him and walked out. Toben followed him out, both stopping by Roach.

“Well, there he is. I’m glad he is… to your liking.” He seemed awkward and anything but glad. “The wedding will be in two days time. Everything should be ready by then.” He looked around in the gloom at the wreaths and ribbons hung around.

“In the meantime, there’s a room at the inn ready for you, Lottie should be there now, or her mother…” He trailed off and Geralt hummed in acknowledgment.

“I’ll start a search tomorrow morning, to get my bearings about the place, see if I spot anything.” He told the man.

“Oh yes, of course; feel free to go about as you please. This is your home now. Just, don’t be late for your own wedding.” Toben chuckled, but Geralt just grunted; he’d never had a home, he supposed Kaher Morhen was the closest thing. He’d never needed a home.

He made to leave, grabbing Roaches’ rains and started walking away.

“Oh, you may want to speak with Tomesen before you go out.” Toben’s voice behind him made him stop. “He’s the only survivor of the beast, he claims to have seen it. He’ll be in the tavern most days, he’ll tell you all he knows.” Geralt nodded at the information and walked on.

He made it to the inn soon after, it was kind of hard to miss. Inside were only three people, but their stares held the weight of a whole crowd; two men sitting at a table with tankards of drink, he suspected one of them to be Tomesen but he passed them to walk up to the counter, behind which a middle aged woman was standing. Despite the thick wood between them the woman took a step back as he approached.

“I’ve been told you have a room for me.” He rumbled out.

“Oh, ye-yes, of course!” She stuttered out and quickly fished for a key. “It’s upstairs, first on the left.” She added in a rush. “Will you be having supper?” She asked as he turned to leave, key in hand.

“In my room.” He answered over his shoulder.

The room suited him fine, it had a bed, a fireplace, a table and chair; all that he needed and more. His dinner, which was left outside his room with a knock at the door, consisted of foraged roots and mushrooms, not something that would fill him up, but he supposed it could be worse. They could have denied him the food in favour of feeding themselves.

He got into bed, not really thinking of sleep, more about the mess he’d gotten himself into.

_The Omega in the woods will be with you always._

Her words circled his mind more and more in the last few days. This couldn’t possibly be what she meant. It had been years, he’d met and been with plenty of Omegas after that. Though non of them had been in the woods, and non of them had those blue eyes.

His own wedding was in two days. If he went through with it he would be condemning not only himself, but the innocent Omega into an uncertain future. What would happen after he killed this monster? Would he be kicked out like so many other towns? Would he be expected to stay, change his nature, become a farmer, use his hands to grow instead of kill?

Or did he take the boy with him, take him away from his home…

Some very deep part of him wanted this. Perhaps that little crumb that remained human, and he felt selfish for it.

He pushed the subject out of his mind in favour of making a plan for the next day. He didn’t have much to lead him yet; he needed to speak to witnesses, the man Toben had spoken about. He wanted to check the ruined fields, there would definitely be a clue there, a tuft of fur, a paw-print; it was almost impossible for anything to not leave behind a trace of itself.

He drifted off with this assurance, and he would never admit that he dreamed of blue eyes and soft skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	5. Shed Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well during this trying time. If it makes you feel better the chapter I'm working on is like pulling teeth, I've never had such writer's block. Anyway I hope you enjoy this one.  
> Thanks for all the comments, I love reading them.  
> Enjoy!!

The town looked very different during the day time; it was just after dawn when Geralt started moving, but there were already people bustling about, men collecting their liquid breakfast in the tavern hushed their conversation and stared when Geralt came out of his room, he ignored them as always.

Walking out he was met with the same reaction, except people had the decency to continue on after they had their fill of gawking at him. He moved immediately to the farmlands, taking with him nothing but his satchel of potions and some empty bottles. He didn’t bother with his armor.

He stopped at the furthermost field, one of the first he’d passed by on his ride into town. As he’d hoped he was the only one here.

He walked through the gate, startling a few crows that were picking at anything still alive they could find. He walked around the perimeter of the field, looking down at the ground, as he circled it he came closer to the centre. It seemed to be where the fire first originated. He crouched down, examining the ground.

So far as he could see there were only human tracks, of people running around trying to put the fire out. No other tracks.

He circled the field once more, slower, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Every now and then he would stop and crouch down, run his fingers over the earth or scent the air. All he could find were the signs of human intervention after a fire broke out, seemingly spontaneously.

It was entirely possible that the fire had come from above, a flying creature. He looked towards the woods, just beyond the field, separated by a wooden fence and the remains of the wall that had failed.

There was something oppressive about it at first glance, from where he was standing he could only see a few feet into it, the trees thick and growing close together.

He turned away and made his way to the next field. He spent the morning in a similar fashion, checking the fields, looking for tracks or clues, at one point he emptied out the contents of one of his bottles to check whether the fire had been enchanted. It was not.

After finding nothing, and seeing that he had attracted a small crowd as he worked, he decided to return to town, find the man Toben was speaking of.

Nearing the inn he stopped when someone called his name. He turned to see the omega, Julian. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Geralt briefly thought about how lovely he looked in the sunlight.

“We were- I mean… If- you can-“ The boy stuttered before cutting himself off, pausing to take a breath and started again.

“Your horse. We thought she might be more comfortable in our family stable. The inn’s stables can get crowded and she might be neglected. Plenty of room in ours, we only keep our working horse, and we can spare all our attention on her.” He smiled then and Geralt forgot if he was going to say anything.

To make things worse Julian kept looking into his eyes, the part of him that most people avoided at all cost. He did it when they first met as well and Geralt didn’t know what to make of it.

He simply grunted in response and tilted his head towards the stables in a silent request to be followed. The omega easily fell into step beside him. Geralt noticed the people around them stare and whisper to each other. If Julian noticed or was bothered by it he didn’t show it.

Around the back of the inn was where the stables were, only Roach was kept there at the moment, nibbling on what looked like old straw. Perhaps moving her _would_ be a good idea.

He fitted her with a bit-less bridle, handing the thick rope of it to the boy, then turned to pick up the rest of her tack and equipment. He turned back to see Julian softly stroking the back of his fingers over her soft nose; he was about to warn him that she was more than enthusiastic about biting but after a few seconds it seemed Roach was letting him pet her.

Roach was never a fan of coddling and had even bit Geralt himself several time when his hands came to close to her face.

“What’s her name?” Julian asked as they started off together.

“Roach” To which the Omega burst out laughing.

“Really? That’s perfect.” To which Geralt only hummed.

“You don’t talk much do you?” He asked and Geralt hummed again. The boy huffed out a laugh at that and for all of ten seconds they managed to walk in silence.

“That’s the blacksmith by the way.” He pointed at a squat building with smoke coming out of the chimney. “In case you need anything repaired. He also pulls bad teeth. And that’s the apothecary.” He pointed to the next building, a cobblestone shack covered in ivy and other various plants.

“Marelda also works a bit as a healer, although most of her wares have run out, and I don’t suggest you go to her for anything worse than a light fever. And that’s the tailor’s- oh wait, I forgot, he’s dead.” He paused for a second in front of a building that looked empty, at least that’s what the windows to the inside seemed to suggest.

“Shame. He would have been happy to work so much in these couple of days. Anyway…”

They continued on, walking side by side while the omega pointed out various buildings and their functions, the people around them giving them a wide berth, women clutching their children close, men tightening their grips on their sharp tools.

They quickly made it to the main square, where the ongoing preparations to the wedding made Julian pause in his ramblings. At least Geralt wasn’t the only one dreading what was to come.

Julian took them around his house where a wide and green paddock was hidden, the fence around it separating it from the church’s’ back garden, filled with summer flowers.

Inside the paddock was a silver gelding, not tall enough to reach Roachs’ height but almost twice her width, its hooves and legs as thick as tree trunks. Its main and tail had been brushed and intricately braided, Geralt supposed it was a sign of love and care toward the animal, but he couldn’t think of anything more humiliating that could happen to a horse.

“You can put her things in there.” He pointed to a small shack, built into the side of the stable; inside he found the harnesses and farming equipment for the gelding, and he left the saddle and the rest on a free surface.

Coming out he saw Julian leading Roach into the paddock, take off the bridle and once again petting her along her nose, and Roach allowing it, again.

The Omega had walked beside him, spoken to him so easily; he couldn’t possibly be so at ease in his presence, perhaps it was his behaviour with everyone. But to Geralt it didn’t make sense, nobody else had acted in such a way, except perhaps his uncle, but even he seemed cautious in the Witchers presence.

He didn’t know what it could mean; what he kept coming back to when he thought about it, was that Julian was beautiful, and when he smiled he outshined the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	6. Wedding Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this chapter into 3 parts instead of 2, but I figured you've been waiting long enough, so here it is. I hope you enjoy.  
> Thanks again for comments and Kudos, I like knowing what you think!

_Today will be a beautiful day_

“White really isn’t your colour.” Jilly commented, not for the first time as she was fitting his white suit around him. It was a loan, since the tailor was gone, and after only one look at it Jaskier hated it.

It was worn along the seat of the pants, smelled strongly of cheese and there was a stain under one of the armpits that just wouldn’t come out. Despite not wanting to go through with the ceremony he could admit he would make a better impression in any one of his working outfits.

At least his shoulders fit in it. And he supposed it wasn’t all bad, it was a nice day at least. And the decorations adorning the square infront of his house looked lovely; if it were anybody else’s wedding he would be in much greater spirits.

He started the day with another good scrub, his sister grumbling the whole time. He wasn’t allowed to eat until after the ceremony, when he and his husband would break the fast together. Traditionally he was supposed to fast for at least seven days, but given the circumstances one morning would be enough.

It was just as well, Jaskier’s stomach was tied in so many knots he didn’t think he would keep anything down. He wondered about the Witcher, Geralt, if he was feeling the same of if he was cool and collected as he seemed the last time they met.

“So I have a question.” Jilly interrupted his thoughts. He turned away from his full length mirror to give her his attention.

“A couple days ago you were pissing yourself at just the thought of the Witcher; then yesterday I saw you all chummy with him. You don’t usually change your opinion so quickly, so what happened?” She sat on his bed and squinted at him in suspicion.

He considered telling her, hesitating. Its not that he didn’t want her to know, he just didn’t quite understand it himself.

“Well, I suppose it helps that he’s not in the least bit scary looking.” He joked, but sobered quickly when his sister continued to glare.

“You’re going to think this is very strange.” He started, joining her on the bed. He cringed a little as the outfit pulled and scratched at his skin.

“I had a dream, the night Geralt arrived. It was…” He paused to choose his words carefully. “So I don’t have many memories of mother and father.” He began again and Jilly seemed taken aback at the sudden change.

“I have one that I really like. Mother is holding me, singing to me. We’re in front of the kitchen window and we can just about see the flowers growing in the church garden, dandelions or buttercups, I don’t know, they’re yellow. And then father takes me, and kisses me on the cheeks until I laugh.”

He paused again, talk of his father leaving him winded.

“And my dream was like that, only its our child. Mine and Geralts. I’m singing to them and he kisses them until they laugh.” He looked over at Jilly, still seeing her slight confusion.

“And in the dream, I felt like I loved him. Very much. And when I woke up I still felt like that. Like I loved him a little.” He remembered feeling stunned for that whole morning after waking up, practically bumbling about his morning chores.

It didn’t help that he kept seeing glimpses of him, just doing his thing in the fields. All Jaskier wanted was to approach him, get closer.

His uncle had finally gotten tired of his usual lack of enthusiasm and sent him off to collect the Witcher’s horse. He had stuttered and mumbled until he realized that Geralt was a man first and foremost, and there was no reason he couldn’t speak to him accordingly. His words came easier with that mindset.

And of course he noticed everyone staring, they always stared and whispered, even before the Witcher arrived; in derision, disgust and now fear.

“Jaskier… that’s really fucking weird.” His sister told him.

“I know!” He buried his face in his hands. “Maybe it’d the Omega in me. We know that all the Alphas here are shit, maybe some deep part of me knows this one will be decent. He also smells better.” The last part was a bit of an overstatement, the Witcher smelled of horse, old dirt, and rotten organic matter.

The only good thing about it was the fact that it was different. Jilly started to say something, the look on her face suggested she was about to tease her brother when their uncle walked in.

“Are you ready?” He asked immediately. “Stand up, let me see you. Yes, well, white isn’t really your colour. I suppose it can’t be helped. What’s that smell? Jilly! Stop sitting around and get dressed! Jaskier, it’s time.” Their uncle spoke in a hurry, wildly moving his arms about, and finally, with a hand on his shoulder, one last look at Jilly, Jaskier was led out.

* * *

Geralt had never attended a wedding before. Reasonably enough he wasn’t close with anyone who would ever get married in their lifetime. And it was all good and fine up until this point.

He woke near dawn, with a vague sense f dread stirring in his gut. It occurred to him that he had no idea what to do, how he was supposed to act, what to expect.

He had been pacing his room for a few minutes, debating weather he should just walk downstairs and start asking questions when there was a knock at his door.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Toben chirped when he was let in. “Good, good; now, before we start, what will you be wearing?” The man seemed in too high spirits for the time of morning.

Of course, Geralt had not thought about what to wear, he owned nothing made of silk or any other fine material; the only thing of value was his armor, which he pointed at with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, yes, very official, that’ll do.” Toben said when he saw it. He then sat on a chair and proceeded to tell Geralt a step by step of the ritual, for which he was unseemingly grateful. The whole process seemed simple enough if unnecessary.

“First things first.” He said once he finished. He picked up a small crate, which Geralt hadn’t noticed before, and handed it to him. It was filled with soaps, oils, haircombs and brushes.

“I don’t whish to offend, but I think I know why you’ve been scaring people off.” He joked, tapping his nose.

Geralt grunted, unamused, and Toben shuffled out with a “I’ll leave you to it.”

So Geralt spent the rest of the morning polishing his armor to a shine, washing himself with a random perfumed oil, and shaving. He was combing his damp hair back, in front of a small mirror when he realized he was grooming a bit too thoroughly. He paused, scowled at his reflection for a few seconds, and then continued.

Once he was done he waited on his bed, wondering briefly how the Omega was fairing, if he was feeling the same dread. He could hear that someone, somewhere was practicing their music; he heard a flute and some stringed instruments that he didn’t know the name of. Today was going to be loud.

He was hoping to have killed the monster before the wedding took place, he would perhaps leave its body in the centre of town for everyone to see and be gone by the time it happened. He conveniently forgot that most of his hunts took several days if not weeks.

And of course this particular monster seemed t be doing everything in its power to not be found. The man Tomesen’s description of it was wildly imaginative, although he was drunk when Geralt asked him of it.

”The beast has a body like a serpent from the sea;” He described “six pairs of wings, each one could swallow the sun three times over; three heads, each one in the shape of the guardians of the underworld; bony arms, the ends of which hold razor sharp claws that could rip a man’s skin clean off. And the eyes, so many eyes, they stare into you, and suck out your soul.”

And Geralt had never heard anything so fictitious. He’d certainly never seen anything matching that description. There was the possibility that he was lying, but he couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps those men had died under different circumstances and Tomesen was hiding the truth. But again, why?

His thoughts were interrupted by a timid knock at the door. There was a young girl on the other side, who actually gasped at the sight of him.

“They-they’re ready for you, downstairs.” She quickly squeaked out, not looking anywhere near his face. He grunted in acknowledgement and she scurried off.

He inhaled deeply, one last moment of courage, and walked downstairs.

* * *

The church was slowly filling with people, Jaskier could hear the low murmur of them walking in and finding their seats. He peeked through the crack in the door of the small vestibule he was waiting in.

The church was by no means any impressive size, but the empty seats were a brutal reminder of why this day was happening.

His uncle walked in the small space, shutting the door behind himself.

“He’s on his way.” He said after a pause. Jaskier simply nodded not knowing if he should say anything. His uncle gave him a quick look up and down.

“I suppose I should tell you that you look beautiful on this day, but that suit…” He shook his head and Jaskier laughed, despite the situation. His uncle then put his hand on his cheek, looked at him with a rare and full fondness.

“You have so much of your mother in you. Be Proud of it.” Jaskier smiled back at him.

His uncle opened the door a crack and peeked outside.

“Alright it’s time.” He announced. “Are you ready?” Jaskier took a deep breath and then another.

“No?” He said in a shaky tone.

“That’s the sprit.” He took him by the arm and opened the vestibule door wide, giving everyone a good view of everything. People gasped and ah’d at the sight of him but Jaskier’s eyes went directly to the Witcher standing on the podium, infront of the altar, staring back.

Neither looked away as Jaskier was brought forward, presented to the Alpha. He looked larger in his armor, more imposing and threatening, but no less handsome.

They broke eye contact once they were side by side, having to look forward at his uncle who was officiating.

He started by welcoming everyone to this grand and happy affair, invited the Gods to bless the union, asked if anyone would oppose the union, spoke briefly of historical rites and finally asked the couple to face eachother and join hands. They did so, Jaskier’s right hand in Geralt’s left.

“As I bind this union, the pair will recite the vows that will set the path of a bonding. Alpha.”

Geralt ground his teeth together for a moment before speaking, his uncle beginning to tie a long and thin strip of decorated fabric around their joined hands.

“I am the sun, and you are my moon. I will chase you through the night, and lead you with my light.” He spoke clearly for everyone to hear him.

“Omega.” Jaskier swallowed, hoping his voice would not crack or trail off in the middle of it.

“I am the moon, and you are my sun. I will look to you when I am lost, to lead me with your light.”

The handfasting complete, now came the more permanent part.

“And now the bite.”

Jaskiers’ heart began to race, his anxiety rising. Geralt must have felt it because he squeezed their joined hands together and Jaskier looked up at his eyes, and he felt that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the Witcher kept looking at him like that , like he was the sun instead.

He was pulled closer, by Geralts’ other arm around his waist, he had to look away when they were close enough for the Alpha to put his face in Jaskiers’ neck, the latter twisting his neck to the side, his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to look at his uncle.

He felt the Alpha softly inhale, felt his lips brush his skin, open and hesitate, then his teeth; he started biting down slowly, not wanting to hurt the Omega, and right at the last minute clamped down with full force, breaking the skin.

Jaskier barely felt any pain, and wondered if this wasn’t the first mating bite the Witcher had given. Then again he had never been bitten himself so he had nothing to compare it to. He just thought it would hurt more.

Geralt stayed latched on just enough to taste Jaskier’s blood. When he pulled away his uncle handed him a white cloth which he pressed to the bite, to stop the bleeding. When Jaskier took it he caught his uncle’s eyes, he smiled sadly and nodded at his nephew.

“I pronounce this union complete.” He announced to the room. Everyone clapped. The pair turned and started walking together, as they passed people, Jaskier couldn’t help glancing at their faces, as row by row they stood up.

They all seemed to have mixed feelings. They wanted to be happy, it was a wedding after all, but they seemed apprehensive given the situation. Nevertheless he smiled when people smiled at him.

At least it was a beautiful day as the now married couple walked out of the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	7. Music of the Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two of the wedding. A couple more chapters and we'll be briefly stopping in the woods!!   
> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos, I love reading what you think.  
> Enjoy.

Jaskier was happy that at least everyone else was having fun. There was barely any food to go around, let alone be called a feast, but there seemed to be plenty of alcohol and people were definitely taking advantage of that fact.

Jaskier watched them from his table, beside the Witcher, still tied to him. His husband. People were dancing to the music, laughing, drinking, forgetting for a day that something in the woods was trying to destroy them.

He was torn between wanting to join everyone but knowing he would have to drag Geralt with him, he didn’t look the dancing type. He glanced down at his plate, still full, he supposed it was a waste, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat a few bites, also considering he had to eat left handedly.

He then glanced at Geralt, he was staring into his cup, humorously small in his large hand, he had also barely picket at his food. He was frowning as always, but Jaskier figured that was his neutral face. He looked uncomfortable and would shift in his seat every few minutes.

The sun was in his hair, reflecting off of it like freshly polished ivory. He scrubbed up nicely.

“You smell better.” He blurted out, to both of their surprise. Geralt looked back at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I mean… you do.” Jaskier stammered, digging himself deeper.

“It’s just, not my first wedding. Well the first where I’m getting married, but I’ve attended others, and usually people don’t bother even changing out of their mud stained clothes, especially the groom. I guess I just appreciate the effort is all.” He rambled.

He looked out at all the people being merry, noticing how most of them were wearing fancy attire, tight suits and dresses that still smelled of dust from being folded away in the back of a closet or dresser.

He had felt flattered for a moment, imagining that it was all for him. But realistically it was all for the Witcher, making it seem like the whole town cared enough about one Omega; Jaskier suspected that if he were marrying anyone else not even half these people would show up.

Geralt hummed beside him, also looking out at everyone.

“If it makes you feel more at home,” Geralt started, his voice deep like gravel and thunder, “at the next celebration I won’t wash for days.” And Jaskier smiled at that; for the first time since this all started he felt somewhat hopeful.

If this is how it was going to be between them, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

Night had come, with it the end of the celebration to Geralt’s relief. Someone had it up lanterns all around the square and tables, and they were casting their orange glow onto anything near them.

The day had been hot and bright, for a long while he regretted wearing his armor; the sun had been constantly in his eyes for some reason and no amount of shifting around on the spot would help. The music was loud and tinny in his sensitive ears and there was a strange smell of cheese around him that he couldn’t identify the source of.

And the young Omega by his side was miserable.

People had been lining up to wish good tidings upon the married pair, saying things like “Many a male heir,” or “May your future line prosper.” He didn’t think it would be appropriate to correct them right now. They were all common enough things to say, but everyone ended their line with a nod to him saying “Witcher”, and then a brief glance at Julian saying simply “Omega.”

Even he could tell it was a thinly veiled insult.

He didn’t know what else to do except quietly thank people as they went by, ignoring the annoyed and frustrated smell coming off Julian. His mood lifted as soon as the boys sister stopped in front of them.

“Well, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” She smiled.

“You’re next, stuffed sausage.”

“Cheese wheel.” And that explained the smell.

“Seriously though, who do we know that makes cheese in their Sunday best?” He asked.

“Howell. From behind the butcher’s. He doesn’t make cheese, but I hear he’s been cheesing it up with the dairy man’s wife.”

“Now I regret asking…” Said Julian. They were interrupted by a cough, coming from Toben. Everybody else had left and the man shared an amused look with Geralt.

“Right.” His sister continued. “Have fun. And tell me everything tomorrow.” She whispered the last part, which Geralt heard anyway, and left with a quick but genuine “Jaskier, Geralt” thrown at them.

Toben moved toward them next and as he spoke he bagan untying the ribbon around their joined hands.

“Forgive me for not giving any well wishes, but I feel it might be a bit overdone at this point.” He smiled.

“I will however extend an invitation for one last drink at the tavern.” He said this to Geralt, giving his nephew a brief glance.

The tavern was packed when they got to it, people not wanting the celebration to end. As soon as Geralt and Julian walked in everyone cheered, lifting their drinks to them, then going back to their drunken antics.

Geralt was immediately led to a table - previously occupied, but everyone scrambled out of the way for him and Toben – he looked back to see Julian already rushing up the stairs. He had first thought the Omega would be joining them but now he had a vague idea how the evening was going to end.

A large tankard was placed infront of him as soon as he sat down, Toben across from him getting the same.

“If every man looked as miserable as you on their wedding day.” The man said, raising his voice over the laughter and yelling of the room. Someone was singing loudly somewhere, probably trying to start everyone else on it too but was failing.

“Does every man you know marry strangers for the sake of payment?” He mumbled, not really expecting an answer. He took a sip of his ale, frowning at the watery taste. He looked up at Toben who was just finishing a large gulp of his own drink.

“Now, a word of warning.” He started once he put his tankard down. “The boy talks, a lot, you’ve probably noticed. In his sleep even. And he sings, though on occasion that’s quite pleasant. I suppose it depends on how you feel about random noise.”

Geralt didn’t think he would enjoy it so much, but he remembered how, just the day before, the Omega was walking beside him, smelling of sunshine and fresh dry earth, of flowers and the summer breeze, content, listening to his voice. He supposed in certain circumstances it wouldn’t be that bad.

He waited for Toben to continue, but then the man took another long and slow gulp of his ale, signifying that he was finished speaking.

“Is that it?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh yes, I suppose. Well he does speak out of turn with people sometimes. I never discouraged him from it, as long as he was speaking his mind. But not everyone likes it. His mother was like that. I’m not in the habit of telling my own to act against their nature.” He smiled then and went to take another drink, frowning when he noticed it was empty. Geralt wordlessly passed him his own.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how is the hunt going? I noticed you wandering around the fields yesterday, have you found anything?”

“Nothing yet. I’ll be heading into the woods tomorrow, something that big must need to stop at some point. Leave tracks.” His plan was to maybe spend a few nights in the woods, to focus all his efforts on finding the thing, coming back to town only when he ran out of supplies.

“Already? You don’t want to stay for a day to enjoy- oh.” Toben cut himself off, realizing it was his own nephew he just suggested the Witcher enjoy. He frowned and took another large gulp of his new drink.

“Last chance to look around the fields, we’re going to start on tilling them tomorrow, see if we can’t restart the planting. Though at this point why bother?”

It occurred then to Geralt that the man may have been just a little drunk, though how he could have gotten there was beyond him, there was as much alcohol in the ale as spots on a striped cat.

“I should leave you to your celebrations, its getting late.” Geralt suggested, his patience for sitting in a loud and stuffy room running out.

“Oh, yes, yes, busy day tomorrow, your new room is on the second floor, right at the end…” Toben trailed off while Geralt stood; as he did some men cheered again but most were thankfully too distracted.

He went upstairs, second floor as Toben said, hoping that at least his things had been moved. When he walked in the sight that greeted him wasn’t entirely unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! Every story must have one.  
> Let me know what you think.


	8. At the Heart of Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that was giving me trouble, so it's not my best. I apologize if it seems boring and badly done. Next chapter should be better.   
> A million thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos.

As the Witcher walked in Jaskier stood from the bed; he had changed into his shift, wearing nothing underneath, and couldn’t help felling apprehensive at the fact that it did nothing to hide any of him. He supposed that was the point.

He had lit all the candles he could find and placed them around the room, hoping the more illuminated it was the more comforted he would feel.

When he saw him Geralt froze in the doorway, his eyes wide. If the situation was in any way different Jaskier would have been amused and glad at the fact the Witcher had more than one facial expression.

Geralt himself was going through a crisis, he knew he would be expected to bed the Omega on their wedding night, but he didn’t expect him to be practically naked. He wasn’t in the least bit disappointed of course, he had a suspicion that Julian would look beautiful. Perhaps he should tell him that.

“Fuck.” He finally ground out, as Jaskier saw his eyes moving up and down his body, hoping the expletive was meant in a positive way since the man could see _everything_.

He resisted the urge to cover himself by opening his arms at his sides, in an inviting manner he hoped, and smiling slightly so he didn’t look crazed.

Geralt’s eyes went up to his neck, to where his bite sat, his mark of ownership of the Omega; he herd the man sigh and clear his throat, since he now looked away, anticipating whatever was coming next. He heard his footsteps walking across the floor.

“I got you a gift.” He then said, surprising Jaskier enough to whip his head back around. Geralt was kneeling by his bags, pulled out a small square wrapped in paper and tied up with string.

“Oh, but, I didn’t get you anything.” Was he supposed to get Geralt a gift? Why did nobody tell him? The Witcher walked over and handed him the gift, it felt heavy.

“I didn’t expect you to.” He simply said. Jaskier untied the packaging, letting it fall to the floor.

It was a wooden box, decorated expertly on the outside with small carved and painted flowers, on the side was a tiny metal handle. He opened it and inside was a mess of metal, gears and springs coming to life to let out a soft melody. A music box.

“Your uncle mentioned you like music.” Geralts low voice spoke over the music. Jaskier looked up at him, at those eyes of molted gold, soft in the candle light. He wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew something of this complicated craftmanship couldn’t have been worth less than a small fortune.

“Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say. The melody was sweet, slow, reminiscent of a lullaby. Geralt hummed and looked down at him.

“It’s late.” He said after a few moments. “I should get some rest, for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving early to go hunt in the woods.” As he spoke he slowly stepped away from Jaskier, toward the bed, where he started removing his armor.

His intention may have been clear, or lack of intention, but just to make sure, Jaskier closed the music box and looked toward the man, his back to him.

“Do you, do you not want to…” He trailed off.

“Do you?” He asked over his shoulder, Jaskier very slowly shook his head. “Then good night, Julian.” He went back to undressing.

“You can call me Jaskier.” He told him, Geralt grunted, but his movements paused briefly, showing that he had heard.

Jaskier went about the room blowing out the candles before finally settling into bed, not bothering to take off the shift; his back turned to the Witcher, until he too got into it beside him, he could feel the distance between them without needing to look.

He couldn’t help but think that everything he had experienced about the Witcher was the complete opposite of he had been told, or what he imagined. Some small part of him wanted to be taken by the Alpha that night, just to see if everyone had been wrong about that part too.

* * *

Jaskier woke up the next morning, he knew immediately he was alone. It wasn’t that late, but he guessed the Witcher must have left around dawn. Most of his things were gone, his armor and weapons, and his main large bag.

He sat up in bed, remembering he was still wearing his shift; he considered briefly tearing it himself, to hide the fact that he hadn’t given his body to the Witcher, but he quickly changed his mind, it was a gift from his mother, he didn’t get many of those nowadays. Besides, he really didn’t think anyone would come checking for it.

He took it off, neatly folded it back into its paper package and pushed it under the bed. As he was getting dressed he eyed the music box Geralt had given him, he opened it while he was lacing his shoes, just to hear the music again. He had a dream he was singing that music to someone, he couldn’t remember who.

He walked downstairs, thinking of breakfast, but just as he came to the bottom of the stairs he noticed the tavern was full of people. All were men and he had a pretty accurate idea of why everyone had congregated there that fine morning.

Not wanting to be the subject of crude comments, lewd questions and childish jeering, he sprinted the rest of the way and ran across the room to the outside, escaping with just a loud cheer following him out.

Perhaps a quick snack at his uncle’s was a better idea. He knew where he would be by this time.

He made it to the field in no time, his uncle was there with three other men, already at work on clearing the field, using picks and pitchforks to dig out the dead remains of the crops.

“Didn’t think I’d see you today.” His uncle said as greeting. “All the better that you’re here though, we were just getting started.” He looked his nephew up and down. “And how do you – um… feel? Good enough to work?” He asked tentatively.

“I’m fine. Just hungry.” He answered, smiling. It was the truth, the lack of any activity the previous night left him feeling refreshed of all things.

“Ah yes, I thought you might be, luckily I brought more than enough for everyone.” He said and walked over to his small cart; Fitel, their horse, was strapped to the front of it. He rummaged through a bag and pulled out some hard cheese and an apple, handing them to Jaskier.

“Eat up quick, then get to work, we’re hoping to put in some radishes by this afternoon.” His uncle said.

Jaskier sat on the cart, eating his breakfast, taking his time despite what his uncle said, not wanting to make himself sick just before he got to work. He gave the last half of his apple to Fitel, then grabbing a pick from the back of the cart, got to work with the other men.

He worked in silence – which the people around him noticed and thought very strange – for most of the morning until the field was cleared enough to be tilled. The three men left while his uncle and he took a break.

Jaskier sat on the cart again, nibbling on more hard cheese and half a roll of bread. His uncle sat beside him, and they enjoyed the silence for a few seconds.

“Well, if I had known that marriage would make you so taciturn I’d have found you a husband sooner.” He said, making Jaskier laugh.

“I would be offended but I know that what you’re really saying is that you miss my chatter.” His uncle chuckled. “I’m sorry, I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh don’t apologize, it’s the best peace I’ve had in years. What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, everything.” He answered. A few more seconds of silence passed. “Nothing happened last night, with Geralt.” He continued. “I thought he would…take me, by force, maybe hurt me but… I don’t think he’s anything like what people say. I think everyone is wrong about him.”

His uncle smiled at him, put his arm around his shoulder.

“Well, if anyone can figure out what’s at the heart of a Witcher, it’s you. You’re too stubborn to leave a puzzle unsolved.” He ruffled Jaskier’s hair. “Eat up, we have to get those radishes in.”

Half an hour later saw Jaskier leading Fitel along the length of the field; the large horse was strapped to a plough it was pulling, his uncle behind them was laboriously pushing.

“Uncle?” Jaskier called back, keeping his eyes forward.

“Hah?” His uncle sputtered out, breathing heavily.

“What were mother and father like? I mean together.”

“What? Why d’you wanna’ know that?” His uncle asked.

“Just curious I guess.”

“Well, we all thought they were happy. He fooled everyone. Are you pulling that horse?” He called out after a hard push.

“Yes.” He called back as he tugged on the horse’s reigns. “But, what about before all that?” Jaskier continued. “Before they had me. How did they act?”

“Why are you asking this?” Jaskier sighed heavily.

“No reason.” His uncle stopped pushing and came to his side.

“Look, I’m sorry things turned out as they did. Truth is, they seemed happy, made for each other. Like Destiny hand picked them to be together.” He took a deep breath. “And then one day he just…left. No trace, no reason. And your mother…well…” He paused again, and Jaskier thought briefly of yellow flowers.

“If there was ever anything that man got right, it was gifting us with you and Jilly.” He smiled, and gave Jaskier’s shoulder a good squeeze. Jaskier smiled back.

“Now come, we’ve almost finished.” His uncle walked back to the end of the plough, giving the horse a light pat on the rump as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	9. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe and keeping busy, hopefully this helps a little.  
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos, you keep me going!!

The woods were quiet and dark. The sun had come up many hours ago but the thick canopy above prevented it from penetrating and reaching the ground. Despite that, the forest floor seemed to be teeming with wildlife.

Everywhere he walked he encountered hares and deer, some bolting at the first sight of him, but most regarding him with indifference or distant curiosity. He stopped at a stream briefly to fill his canteen, and when he looked up he was surprised to see a family of wild hogs drinking just on the other side of him.

He almost felt sorry when late in the afternoon he had to kill a small doe for his supper, she hadn’t even run from him when he raised his sword to her.

The most logical explanation for that was the inactivity of humans in the woods. The animals hadn’t yet developed a fear of humankind. That meant that nobody from the village had been hunting - which made sense in recent times – ever. A recent lack of human activity wouldn’t account for the blatant lack of fear from the animals.

Geralt didn’t understand that. Why would nobody ever go hunting?

Another surprise came after sundown; if the forest was dark and gloomy by day, it was completely illuminated by night. Fireflies came out of nowhere to illuminate the woods better than sunlight could; and where the fireflies lacked, a bio-luminescent moss glowed in a soft blue-green from some of the largest trees.

Geralt usually had no trouble seeing in the dark, but even he could admit this was much preferable. He was deep enough in the woods to know that nobody in the village would know this happened, he was now pretty sure nobody ever came in here, not for a very long time anyway.

He wondered if Jaskier might like it here, it was quiet and bright. Perhaps next time he was in town he could grab one of his spare glass jars, and collect some of the fireflies for the Omega. Perhaps, once it was safe Geralt could take him along.

He quickly chased the fantasy away, he was here to kill monsters, not plan romantic evenings.

He found nothing on the first day and night. He spent the day alternating between searching for tracks and meditating the time away; during the night he went back until the town was in sight and just kept watch, thinking that if anything attacked he would surely see it.

He repeated the process the next day, this time searching for caves an anything that could be used as shelter. He found some caves, more like natural gorges in the earth, but they were either empty or not wide and deep enough to house anything larger than Geralt himself.

He’d spent more time searching for easier prey in the past, but the lack of ay kind of physical evidence was starting to alarm Geralt; he was beginning to think this whole monster story was just a plot, concocted by the whole town to trap him here for whatever reason.

Geralt had never been a patient man, so he felt doubly worse when the frustration built up into an itch on the inside of his skull, on the third night.

He was packing up his temporary campsite, readying for the long trek back toward the village when he heard a noise around him, a mix of hissing and clicking; he looked around himself, noticing for the first time just how dark it was, no fireflies or moss, the hissing/clicking continued, it seemed to be moving, getting closer, circling him.

Ever so slowly he pulled out his sword, and not a moment too late it seemed, as with a scream like shriek he was suddenly leapt at from behind.

* * *

In the days following Geralt’s absence, Jaskier fell back into his old routine, with some minor changes. During the day he would help restore the crop fields, first by clearing and tilling the earth, then by transporting heavy water buckets to irrigate what they’d planted.

It was going to take weeks to replant what little they had, and it would take months before anything would be ready to harvest. Everyone just hoped they’d have something before the autumn season.

Once all the hard work was done for the day he would go to his uncle’s house for supper, spend time with his family before having to return to the inn before nightfall.

He would sometimes think of Geralt, when the bitemark on his neck would itch just a little. Jilly would tease him when it happened, saying that the Alpha was thinking of him.

He never felt anything else through the bond, they would need more contact for that to happen.

Though the nights felt a bit lonely, he felt perfectly content in the way things were. Every day, the same routine, with no change, exactly the same as the day before…

So maybe he was lying just a little when he said he was content. But he felt bad for thinking it. So many people had died, they had given their life so that people like Jaskier could have a normal and stable life.

During the third night Jaskier had been deeply asleep, he knew this because despite being woken up suddenly by the bedroom door opening, it still took him a few seconds to decide weather it had been a dream or not; and before he could decide if he was in any danger he heard Geeralt’s voice loudly curse.

There was some shuffling about and then the fireplace was lit up like a small inferno, the fire so big and bright it illuminated the whole room. Geralt had his back to him, working on removing his armor, dropping its various components by his feet, next to his bags, one of which looked wet for some reason.

Once the armor was all removed the Witcher grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the fire, as he turned Jaskier noticed that his undershirt was stuck to his right shoulder with what looked like blood.

Before he could leap out of bed in worry Geralt slipped his shirt off with a small groan and Jaskier was momentarily distracted by his broad back and shoulders. Later he would swear it was only half a second and not three or five, before he noticed the giant wound on his shoulder, or _wounds_.

There were three holes, placed in a vaguely upside-down triangular pattern and still bleeding.

“What happened?” He asked, and he didn’t leap out, so much as shuffled out from beneath the covers. Geralt jerked towards him, seemingly forgetting he would be in there.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He said while sitting. Jaskier came closer, seeing the wound at a better angle and with more light; it looked like bitemark, from something that had three very large teeth.

“What made this? Does it hurt?” He asked.

“It’s fine.” Geralt responded simply, staring to shuffle through his bag, the one that was still dry. He pulled out various bottles with different coloured liquids inside, he then pulled out something wrapped in cloth.

As he was doing that Jaskier grabbed his discarded shirt and held it against the wounds to try and stop the bleeding. Geralt grunted and stiffened.

“I said it’s fine. Go back to sleep.” He said roughly.

“Be quiet and stay still.” Jaskier added pressure and he noticed a strange rotting smell coming from under his hands. “Why does it smell so bad?” He asked.

Geralt, who felt slightly stunned after the Omega spoke back to him, turned back to his things, unwrapping whatever was in the cloth.

“That’s my body rejecting the poison-“

“Poison? What poisoned you?” Jaskier interrupted. As an answer Geralt kicked the bag that looked wet.

Being closer now Jaskier could see that whatever was inside had bled through. Looking back at what Geralt was doing, he saw that he had unwrapped a very large fang, and was now squishing some thick, clear liquid from it into a vial, mix it, and add something from another bottle before downing it in one gulp.

“What’s that?”

“Anti-venom. To help speed things up. You can let go now, the bleeding stopped.” His voice was a bit more gentle now and Jaskier took a step back, removing the spoiled shirt to see that the bleeding had indeed stopped. But the wounds still stank, and looked ugly, so he moved to stand beside the Witcher, looked down at the bag that was still leaking on the floor.

“Is that what’s been plaguing us all this time? It’s very small.” He commented.

“That’s not it. That’s just a Mosag.” Geralt told him.

“What’s a Mosag?” He asked.

“It’s like a big spider, about the size of large dog. The venom is only a paralytic, so they can drag off any prey they find, keep it alive so they can eat it fresh. It bit me, but most venoms have no affect on Witchers.”

Geralt decided not to include the very embarrassing detail about how a few seconds after killing the Mosag he had collapsed face down for almost ten minutes, unable to move.

Jaskier grimaced and looked at the bag with a queasy feeling. He seemed unsure.

“Mosags can’t make fire. I’m afraid that whatever is doing this is still out there.” Geralt finished. He rummaged through his bag again, pulled out a shirt and slipped it on, then to Jaskier’s surprise, started putting his armor back on.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I have t go back out there, there might be more, I still haven’t found what’s burning everything down.”

“But you’re injured.” Jaskier protested.

“It’s fine.” Geralt grunted, standing and grabbing his bag off the floor.

“Does it hurt?” Jaskier then asked.

“It’s fine.” He said again, taking a step toward the door.

“Does it hurt?” Jaskier repeated more firmly, putting himself between the Witcher and the door. Geralt sighed but wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“So rest for tonight, I’ve never seen anything like what you described near the village, so I assume we’re safe for one night.” As Jaskier spoke he started carefully undoing the straps and buckles of Geralt’s armor, placing them on the chair he had been occupying. He then firmly pushed the Alpha toward the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	10. And out Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter this week, I'm afraid I'll be quite busy the next couple of days, and I didn't want you to wait with nothing.  
> Thanks t everyone who commented and left kudos, as always, I'm so glad you all like this. I honestly didn't think it would be so well enjoyed. I just write in between moments of crying over my split ends and finding new positions to cat nap on my sofa.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.

When Geralt woke up the next morning his shoulder was still sore, his body felt stiff from the mosag venom. He had also overslept; this was why he never rested after taking his healing potions, usually he preferred walking off his aches and pains but Jaskier had been determined to wrap him up comfortably in bed.

Speaking of the Omega, he wasn’t in the room, that was his first clue on what time it was. If he left now he supposed he would have enough time before nightfall to make a quick search.

He was packed and ready to go when, as soon as he set foot in the tavern he was suddenly assaulted by loud cheering. Everyone in town was seemingly packed in the room, a drink in most people’s hands.

When the noise finally died down someone in the middle of the crowd raised their cup and loudly announced “To Geralt the Witcher! The hero of Aleria!” and the cheering started anew.

In the midst of all this confusion Geralt managed to spot Jaskier standing I a corner, looking vaguely put out, when their eyes met the boy had the decency to smile sheepishly in response to his glare; he could almost hear the bleating all the way across the room.

Geralt made his way over to him, ignoring everyone who came forward to pat hm on the shoulders and giving their teary eyed words of thanks.

Jaskier, sensing the danger he was in, did his best to squirrel his way out of that place but was finding himself constantly impeded by everyone, it didn’t help that the mass of people kept pushing him toward the angry looking Witcher in their attempt to congratulate him again.

“You!” Geralt finally caught up to him, grabbing him by the arm - not tight enough to hurt, but there would be no way of getting out of that grip – making the boy squeal in the most unmanly sound possible.

“Oh, good morning husband! Would you like a drink? A drink for my husband, the hero of Aleria!” He called out to which several people responded by handing over their own full cups of ale. Geralt ignored them.

“What did you tell them?” He growled, his eyes glaring holes in Jaskier’s face.

“Well I certainly didn’t tell them to have a party.” He weakly tried to wriggle out of the grasp, to no success. When Geralt continued to glare he slumped and kept talking.

“Alright look, its not my fault but during the night that bag you brought back had developed quite a bad funk, so as soon as it was light out I went downstairs with it to get rid of it, on my way I met Lottie and she asked ‘what’s that?’ and I had no idea what to tell her, I was too tired to think of a lie, so I just said ‘it’s a monster that Geralt killed’ and she said ‘Geralt killed the monster?’ and I responded ‘no, no, it’s _a_ monster, not _the_ monster.’”

Geralt had long since regretted ever asking.

“And then her mother came out exclaiming ‘the witcher has killed the monster’ to which I again tried to protest ‘no, no, it’s _a_ monster-‘ but she had already run off to tell everyone she could find and, well, here everybody is.” He finally finished, out of breath and flushed.

His cheeks had begun to turn colour about halfway through his monologue and Geralt had been so distracted by it, he missed weather there was any point to that rant at all. When he finally realized that Jaskier had stopped talking he had nothing to say except “What?”

“I’m sorry, this was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He said after a huff, gesturing to the room and everyone in it. He supposed the boy couldn’t be blamed, people had the habit of jumping to conclusions, he knew that all too well.

“It’s fine I guess.” He grunted, finally letting go of Jaskier’s arm; he was about to tell him he was leaving again, just as people started singing loudly.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jaskier proposed, everyone’s attention was on the other side of the room where a group of people standing on tables, directing the impromptu chorus, and before Geralt could accept saying he would rather be anywhere else, the Omega took him by the hand and led him out of the building.

Finally outside in the fresh air, Geralt breathed out a sigh of relief.

“They won’t miss us for a while.” Jaskier said, starting to walk in a random direction. Geralt followed, his excuse being that he still felt stiff, and a walk would probably do him good. They ambled along in silence for a few short minutes.

“So…not a fan of celebrations in your honor I see.” Jaskier commented.

“How’d you guess?” He rumbled. Jaskier smiled.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine.” And Geralt was hoping to leave it at that, but the Omega was looking at him with such an innocent and curious look, he sighed and elaborated.

“Sore. But it’s fine.”

“I took a peek this morning, while you were still asleep, it seemed to be healing well, really well in fact. Something that bad on any of us would take weeks to get to that stage. If we survived it at all…” He trailed off.

Geralt hummed. “Witcher healing.” He simply said.

“Oh.” Jaskier said, and after a few seconds “I don’t know anything about Witchers.” A few more seconds. “Are all of your scars from monster hunting?” He asked with that same curious expression.

Geralt took a few seconds to answer, he noticed they were passing familiar buildings on their way to the main square, where they had spent their wedding feast.

“Most yes. Some where made by people.”

“Why?”

Again Geralt paused before answering.

“Some people are worse than monsters.” He hoped that was cryptic enough to keep him silent for a few more peaceful minutes, he wasn’t sure how the Omega would take certain revelations on humankind.

As they passed through the square Geralt asked a question of his own.

“How’s Roach? Not been giving you trouble I hope?”

“Nah, she’s lovely. Just as good a conversationalist as you.” He laughed. “Would you like to see her?” And again, before Geralt could answer that ‘lovely’ wasn’t something that Roach did, Jaskier started leading them towards his home, round the back of the building where the paddock was.

They caught her while she was in the middle of a back rub, rolling herself on the ground but she sprang up when she saw them, trotting over to Geralt. As he petted her he noticed her coat was shiny and polished, her main and tail clean, brushed, and mercifully un-braided.

Geralt realized he’d missed seeing her every day, he was mostly glad she was well taken care of.

Jaskier smiled at them from where he was standing a few feet away, leaning on the wooden fence, when he looked away Geralt kept staring.

The boy confused him so much. They were married but had never had a real conversation, they technically had never even introduced themselves, yet the Omega had gone out of his way to make him feel comfortable, spoke his ear off, made him rest and worried for him after he was injured.

He acted like he already knew Geralt, most of all he’d never been afraid around the Witcher, at least he’d never smelled it on the boy. And for some reason, the lack of fear in the Omega made the Alpha himself feel afraid.

* * *

Toben joined them not long after.

“There you two are.” He announced himself, clapping Jaskier on the shoulder and smiling wide at them. “You two are missing quite the celebration.”

“Toben, there’s been a misunderstanding-“ Geralt started but Toben raised his hand to stop him.

“I know, Jaskier explained everything. Though it’s not an ideal situation, I think we can let people relax finally, let them be happy for once. You can keep searching for that thing and people will be non the wiser.”

“So we just lie and pretend?” Jaskier asked. “Is that right?”

“No, it’s not right. But there’s no use in being afraid all the time. It’s jus a little lie, there’s no reason they should find out.” Toben explained.

He said things that Geralt didn’t really agree on but, unlike Toben, he had never been the leader of a whole town with people depending on him. The man must know what’s best for everyone after all this time.

“What if there’s another attack?” Jaskier asked again. “Geralt will take care of it before that happens.” Toben responded with a bit too much confidence for Geralt’s liking, that wasn’t a promise he was sure he could keep.

“Ah, that reminds me, Geralt, I’ve been meaning to invite you for dinner, tonight if you can make it.” His tone of voice suggested the only answer was yes.

“I- I suppose.”

“Excellent! Now, I’ll leave you two alone again.” He winked and walked off with a happy skip in his step.

Jaskier waited for his uncle to be out of earshot before speaking again.

“You don’t have to come, tonight, if you don’t want to; it won’t be a very good dinner, we hardly have enough for just the three of us on most evening.” He said while looking down shyly.

“I’ll be there.” He said and was rewarded with a smile which fell soon after.

“I’m sorry, for all of this, you can blame me if things go wrong.” Geralt hummed and the two shared a silent moment.

“I need to go.” He then said, gesturing to the woods beyond the paddock.

“Oh, right. Yes of course.” Jaskier said quickly.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Geralt said gently.

“Tonight…for dinner! Yes, of course.” The boy stammered, his face reddening again as he laughed.

Then for a brief moment Geralt was unsure weather he should touch Jaskier, he suddenly felt like it would be appropriate, perhaps run his fingers over the warm flushed skin of his face. In the end he simply grunted and walked away, into the woods again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	11. Be our Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a mess and doesn't really progress the story much, so there will be a big leap in time on the next one, be ready.  
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, this story would not be here without you.

The celebrations continued throughout the day. While Jaskier and his uncle concentrated on replanting the crop fields, people were busy still getting drunk in and around the tavern. Every now and then the sound of laughter, cheering and singing would carry over across the whole town.

Without the extra help though, their work was slower, and it would take them more than twice as long to clear this particular patch of earth.

They were both sweaty and red faced and in Jaskier’s case, had an itch at the back of his throat that no amount of coughing would help; he kept stopping, to his uncle’s annoyance, and loudly declaring that he wished death would take him.

Jilly eventually arrived, carrying a heavy bucket of water.

“Gods above, finally!” Jaskier exclaimed walking over to her, as soon as he was close enough he dropped to his knees and promptly dunked his whole head into the cold water.

“That’s for the seeds!” He heard her protest. He emerged from the bucket, blowing water out of his nose, smiling as he scrubbed his cooling face, enjoying the many rivulets falling from his hair into his shirt.

AS he was smoothing his hair back, his hand happened to pass over the bite-mark on his neck; as it did the sudden feeling of a second, very powerful heartbeat in his chest made him gasp. It was slow, so slow it made him dizzy, and when he closed his eyes his other senses seemed to travel somewhere else.

He could smell the sweetness of pine needles and damp earth, hear bird songs and large animals moving in the distance, the mineral aftertaste of a cold, crisp spring on his tongue, the feeling of that same cold water came cascading down from the top of his head to the rest of his body made him shiver…

And just as quickly as it started, it vanished as Jilly snapped her fingers in his face.

“Is your brain frozen?” She asked loudly. He was still on the ground, by the bucket, back in his own body, if he even left at all, and when he went to touch the bite-mark again nothing happened.

“Are you alright?” His sister asked when he didn’t answer her previous jab. He stood up, slowly.

“Yes. Yes, um, I should, get back-“ his rambling was cut short when once again loud yelling reached them, this time it sounded like groans of protestation.

“Well, that’ll be the ale gone.” His uncle said. “Hopefully once people have sobered up they’ll come and help.”

People did not wait to sober up, though they took their time, before coming to help. What resulted was a rather amusing spectacle of six grown men playing around with their tools.

It still took them the whole day to clear and prepare the earth, but one couldn’t help be affected by their happiness, laughing at every little happening and childish joke that flew out. The number of times Jaskier was encouraged to thank the Witcher in his own special way was countless.

It was only later, when he was alone in the stable settling the horse for the night, he thought back on what he had experienced, when he touched his mark, he was pretty sure that was Geralt, the bond between them had shown him what the Alpha had been feeling for a moment.

When he tried again, even now, he couldn’t feel anything. It was confusing, and he wasn’t sure if he did want to feel it again or not.

Back in the house he had just enough time to bird-bathe away the sweat and smells of the day before there was a knock at the door, slipping on a clean shirt he went to open it.

It was Geralt, and he was carrying something in a bag over a shoulder, perhaps another mosag.

“Oh, you’re early.” He told him while letting him in. The Witcher only grunted, walking in and dropping the bag to the floor.

“Is that another one? Why did you bring it in here?” Jaskier practically whined, confusing the man.

“What? No, look inside.” He told the boy. Jaskier made a face but opened up the bag as he was told, what he saw inside made him freeze.

“What’s this?”

“What you said earlier, about the food, I thought I should help, a little.”Geralt explained, still confused, now at the look on Jaskier’s face; he seemed quite scared, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, looking at the bundle of fresh dead rabbits like they were about to spring back to life.

Before anyone could say anything more Toben walked in, looking cheery and in good spirits, until he too saw what was in the bag. His expression fell quickly, his hand going to Jaskier’s shoulder, he looked more angry than afraid.

After a couple of seconds of silence he seemed to compose himself and spoke.

“It’s alright, he didn’t know.” He said, to jaskier or himself, Geralt couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t know what?” He asked, Toben glanced at him but when he spoke again it was to his nephew.

“It’s fine, nothing will happen if it’s just the one time. No sense letting all this go to waste.” He smiled, but it was strained, fake.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asked in a small voice, his uncle nodded.

“Sure. Now go, Jillian will help you.” So Jaskier picked up the bag and with one last glance at Geralt he left for the kitchen.

“I don’t understand.” He told Toben.

“Well, come, I suppose I should explain some things.” He said, and led great into the living area.

* * *

Having never cooked rabbit before, Jaskier and Jilly were momentarily stumped as to what meal to prepare. They were originally going to serve the last of their salted meats with a side of rationed veggies, and dehydrated fruit for desert.

In the end, after consulting their mother’s cookbook , they agreed that the advice on the very first page - ‘ _when in doubt, make a stew_ ’ – seemed as good a recipe as any.

It also said ‘ _don’t you dare over-salt my casserole, you fool_ ’ on page two, but they didn’t need to go that far.

Dinner started out as a quiet affair, his uncle praising the food and Geralt stewing – pun intended – over the information his uncle had provided.

Of course Jaskier abhorred long silences, so he took it upon himself to talk about the first thing that passed through his brain, it being which animal dung would be used as fertilizer for the fields, which tuned into his uncle scolding him for the topic over dinner, which prompted his sister to bring up his childhood nemesis.

“I think it’s because Moddy is in love with you, really.” She teased. Geralt, who Jaskier assumed was not listening, stiffened his spine in the most minute way, something Jaskier would not have noticed anyone doing not long ago.

The conversation flowed from there, almost like always, like the Witcher wasn’t even there, though now Jaskier knew he was listening to everything, his sister and him bickering, his uncle trying to control them, to no avail.

Pretty soon the pair found themselves walking back to the inn for the night. Like dinner, it started in silence, but this time it was Geralt who broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry, about the rabbits. I didn’t know it was forbidden to hunt in the woods.” He said.

“Well, technically you’re not native to Aleria, so you’d be alright to do it.”

“Is all that stuff true?” Geralt asked.

“It’s what I was told since I was a child, so I guess? I don’t really know, people think its why the attacks happened in the first place.”

“It’s just, the thought of you going hungry, didn’t sit well.” The low tone of his voice and the broken sentences made the fluttering in his stomach at his words all the more violent.

“Well in that case, I wouldn’t complain if next time you brought back, say, a deer. Our secret. ” He joked.

“That boy, Moddy, is he giving you trouble?” Geralt then asked, surprising Jaskier.

“Oh no, he’s… well I guess he’s harmless. I think his father is pushing him to try and court me. Or used to. My uncle owns the farm he works on, and what’s left of the animals. I think he just wants the land.” Geralt hummed, his trademark frown still in place.

“There was also this one time,” Jaskier continued, ”he came to the house on my first heat, demanding to be let in. My uncle sent him off, I’ve never seen him that angry…” He trailed off.

They were coming up on the inn now, there were still people about it, laughing and having a good time despite the absence of alcohol.

“You’ll be gone again tomorrow, I suppose.” Jaskier said. “Do be careful.” He said before he could stop himself.

“By that I mean… I don’t wish to be woken up in the middle of the night to tend to your wounds again.” To his surprise the Witcher smiled, well his frown disappeared and his face relaxed, but Jaskier was taking it as a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	12. A Loser Weeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy, I'm afraid i have to give a quick warning for the coming weeks. Where I live they are slowly starting to open up shops and businesses, that means I'll be going back to work in the evening and babysitting my nephew during the day so the next chapters will either be short or late. I'm sorry about this, but know that I'm in no way even entertaining the idea of cutting the story short, or giving up on it, I apologize in advance and thank you for bearing with me!  
> Thank you to everyone that commented and left kudos, I appreciate your thoughts!

Weeks had gone by, in similar fashion to the first one. All the fields had finally been planted, the first radishes ready to harvest, things were looking up.

And Jaskier could finally take some time off from farm labor, since traditionally the harvest work was done by women; in a few days it would have to be replanted, but for now he was enjoying his lazy days in the last of the spring sun.

He passed his time alternating between reading books in the shade of the orchard and napping in the shade of the orchard.

But the thing he liked best was experimenting with the bite mark, more like playing with it. His and Geralt’s bond wasn’t strong enough to keep a connection for very long, but when Jaskier finally figured out how to do it, it almost became like a game.

The trick was to not concentrate, not focus on the mark or bond, but instead completely clear his mind, quiet his thoughts, easier said than done, but once he got the hang of it he could do it without even touching the bite mark.

He assumed that, if he felt what Geralt felt, then maybe Geralt felt what he felt as well; so when he wasn’t napping or reading the day away he would busy himself with finding things he thought the Witcher would like to experience.

Things like, standing in grass barefoot, running his hands over Roach’s smooth coat while brushing her, biting into a particularly warm and fresh loaf of bread, listening to a traveler tell his tale one night in the tavern. Simple things that brought happiness to Jaskier.

And from the other side, Geralt was doing the same. He figured out what the boy was doing pretty quickly after that first time, and though he initially found the experience distracting and unnecessary, he also went out of his way to share things through the bond.

The rough bark of a tree, spongy where the moss grew over it, the dewy nose of a curious deer, the smell of wildflowers, the taste of honeycomb and blueberries…

They would sometimes dream together, the kinds of dreams where you have no control over your actions and wake up forgetting the dream itself but knowing that you did dream. And Geralt just knew he had dreamed with Jaskier.

He would have other dreams, most of them while he meditated, and they felt so real they left him dazed and confused to his surroundings.

While in the woods he found no more giant spiders, he did find an old nest of theirs. Sticky, rotten webs still clung to dead trees; birds, bats and small rodents had become trapped in them only to waste away and decay forever. A large pit in the middle of it suggested a queen had been present, the whole colony had probably moved to a larger space.

It was of course too much to hope that the Mosag were behind all this, it would be so easy to track their new location and dispose of the whole colony, but since he hadn’t found anymore strays he supposed he could let them be.

He spent most of his time in the woods, as much as he could, expanding the area of his searching, going deeper and deeper in, until it took him almost a full day to travel back to the town.

He was loosing his patience, nothing had ever taken him this long to find and if it was as big and powerful as people said it was then he would have found it, not to mention the fact that there hadn’t been an attack since his arrival. There was something strange going on and Geralt was now too pissed to not find out what.

So he made a new plan, he would go back to the village and keep an eye out from the comfort of a real bed, that way if anything happened he would be right there and ready.

He got back into town around noon, just the right time to get something cold to drink and warm to eat, as most people seemed to be doing. The sight he walked in on wasn’t something he was too pleased to be greeted with.

Jaskier was there, sitting at a small table, an empty plate and cup were beside him; in front of him, practically leaning over him was another alpha. Geralt missed the object of the conversation but he saw the upset expression on his omega and could now hear the end of what the alpha was saying.

“- can’t even smell him on you. Not even a mutant will debase himself by bedding you.” Geralt startled them both by simply dropping his swords on the table between them, clattering loudly. The boy jumped and swiveled round to face him, the blood draining from his face.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked innocently. “Let me guess, you must be Moddy.” He talked in a low voice, the threat very much tangible, to which the young alpha answered by scampering off, tripping over chairs and bumping into people on his way out.

Geralt hummed and sat down across from Jaskier, who now had a small smile on his face.

“What would it take for you to do that at night, outside his window?” He asked.

“For now, just something to drink.” Geralt responded.

“Right. We’re all out of ale, people celebrated a bit too much that one time. But there’s tea, and fruit juice, oh and water, you should definitely try the water!” He joked. He acted like he was in better spirits, but Geralt could smell the slight acid tang of his upset state.

“So you’re back early, are you staying here until tonight?”

“I’ll be staying for a while, haven’t found anything in the woods.”

“Really? It’s been weeks.” The boy asked incredulously.

“Exactly.” He answered bitterly. “There’s no point wasting my energy out there; I’ll stay here, if anything happens, I’ll be ready.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough, can’t really ask for the impossible.” He said, then stretched and slowly stood up; “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had a very good nap planned today. Lottie will bring you what you need.” Then he just walked off, his upset smell leaving with him.

Lottie did indeed bring him something to eat and drink, bending over a bit too much while pouring the apple juice, clearly wanting to show off her deep cleavage. After his quick lunch he went to his and Jaskier’s room to put his things away, if he was going to be staying indefinitely there was no point in keeping his bags packed.

He was emptying out his bag of non essentials, the one he had left at the inn, to notice that most of his spare clothing had been washed mended and carefully folded back into the bag; smelling them brought forth the musky, herbal scent of soap, and a little bit of Jaskier.

He thought he would be angry at the image of the boy going through his things, instead he felt warmth in his chest at the fact that the Omega had taken time to take care of Geralt’s things.

* * *

“Daddy, can I nap with you?” Came a little voice right in front of him, Geralt didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.

“I’m not napping, I’m- “ He grunted when the tiny thing just crawled in his lap, getting comfortable, nestled against his chest. He put his arm around them, feeling them breathe…

He opened his eyes, startled to find that he was holding onto his own leg. He looked around, frantically trying to find them, they were barely a foot tall, they couldn’t have gone far. In that moment Jaskier walked in.

“Hey.” He chirped.

“I’ve lost- “ He started, but then realized it had been a dream, one he’d had before, and felt a little foolish.

“What d’you lose?” Jaskier asked.

“Nothing.”

“Okay, well look, I wanted to ask you something.” He started. “And you can say no.” He added.

“What is it?” Geralt asked, standing up from where he’d been meditating on the floor.

“Well, people have been noticing, and talking, and saying that probably haven’t been doing a very good job of welcoming you here; not that I would get a chance, you’ve been in the woods since you came here- “

“I come back often.” Geralt interrupted.

“Sneaking in while I’m asleep then leaving before I wake up doesn’t count.”

“You told me not to wake you.”

“That’s not my – never mind.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What I’m trying t tell you is, people have been noticing that I don’t smell enough like you to suggest that we’ve been… _happily_ married; they think I’ve not been performing my _wifely_ duties.” He explained, and now what that alpha had been saying made more sense.

“I don’t care what they think.” Geralt said.

“Well, that’s fine, you don’t have to live and work among them, I do and… Look I’m not suggesting that we, _you know_ , immediately, just…” He paused, thinking over the best way to bring up what he wanted.

“What?” Geralt asked when he was silent for too long.

“How about you just scent mark me, it should work for a little while. And you can say no…”

Geralt hummed in thought, what he saw today was most likely not the first time Jaskier was approached and questioned about his lack of smell from the Alpha, it was just such an intimate thing.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” He relented and Jaskier smiled. “Take off your clothes.” He then said.

“’Beg ‘pardon?” Jaskier spluttered, his eyes wide.

“It’ll work better if our skin comes in contact.” He explained, already slipping out of his shirt.

“Oh, yes, of course, yes.” He spluttered again, fiddling with his own shirt, he kept having to tear his eyes away from Geralt’s chest, he hadn’t seen the other in such a state of undress before and now he was finding it hard to concentrate, or breathe.

Once they were both undressed, to their underwear, Geralt gestured to the bed, when Jaskier got in he slipped in behind him, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close until they were pressed tight together, from his shoulders to his feet.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Geralt rumbled and Jaskier could feel it travel all the way down to his toes.

He would have answered but he was too busy thanking each and every one of the gods personally and thoroughly for the masterpiece that was Geralt’s body, the warmth of it, the firmness.

He was surrounded by his scent, of the woods and whatever he had eaten hours ago, it was strong ad heavy like a blanket, relaxing him into a deep and peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	13. A Lesson in Domesticity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lateness, life gets in the way, unfortunately the chapter isn't my best but I hope you all enjoy.  
> Thanks a million to everyone who comments and leaves kudos, I appreciate it, even if I don;t always have time to answer everyone, sorry!!

_Today will be a beautiful day._

Jaskier always said that.

Geralt walked up the well worn dirt path to the old shack; he stopped at the gate when he saw Jaskier in the front garden, kneeling on the ground. He watched him laboriously planting colorful flowers in the soft earth around the edge of the wooden building, most of them were yellow.

He had a frown on his face because he hated the work, hated being still in one place, he only did it to pass the time; this stay was only temporary, and they would be leaving again soon.

Geralt watched him for a few minutes more, until the omega lifted his head and spotted him, stood up and ran to him as Geralt walked through the gate.

They met in the middle, Jaskier smiled wide as he flung his arms around his mate, their faces coming closer and closer.

“You’re back.” He whispered.

Geralt opened his eyes, having been woken up by Jaskier’s voice talking in his sleep. He had a small smile on his face, still asleep, still dreaming.

Geralt had wanted to get up, get something to eat for them, but he stayed holding Jaskier. He felt warm and comforted, safe, because Jaskier was safe; their mixed smell made him feel relaxed and dozy and he kept falling into shallow slumber when he inhaled it. His skin was soft under his large hands.

He did get up eventually, slowly sliding his arm from underneath the boy, who chuckled lightly in his sleep.

He couldn’t regret the attachment between them now; he had, a while ago, entertained the idea of simply leaving when his hunt was over, of leaving Jaskier behind. Surely the bond would cut off with distance and the omega would be free to marry someone he actually wanted.

Then the soul-sharing had started and Geralt had almost become addicted to the feeling of Jaskier’s happiness. Not to mention he had yet to find the thing that had caused all this. He was pretty sure Jaskier would be wanting to scent mark more often now, too.

Once dressed he went downstairs for a quick supper, thankfully it wasn’t Lottie that served him, but her mother.

“Our chickens are finally laying again.” She commented when she brought over a dish of salted beef, cheese, and to his surprise boiled eggs.

She asked what he would be doing that evening, he responded that he thought it would be best to keep an eye on the fields during the night.

“And what would you be keeping an eye out for?” She asked making Geralt pause. For a moment he had forgotten that everyone was convinced that he had already defeated the monster.

“Just…anything, that might be a threat. Just in case.” He mumbled.

“You truly are a hero.” She sighed and put a hand to her chest, he hummed.

While he did appreciate the lack of fear after so many years since becoming a whitcher, this blind adoration made him feel stifled; he certainly didn’t want to be around if the truth ever came out.

Before leaving he asked if she would bring up something for Jaskier, as he would be waking soon.

Though it was well past sundown, people were still moving about, now that the danger was “gone”, they were mostly teenagers, young enough to still have enough energy after a full day of work.

Other than that it was quiet, he stayed up, moving up and down across the paths that brought to the fields, for hours, long after everyone had gone in. He sniffed the air and glared at the tree line, knowing full well that nothing would be coming out of it.

He went back to the inn, where Jaskier was asleep again, the music box he had gifted him on the table beside him, silent, having run its course.

* * *

Despite being up half the night before, he still managed to wake up before Jaskier.

“I’m up.” He mumbled as Geralt was dressing, then promptly fell back asleep. He ordered breakfast for them both, then just waited, seated at the long counter, listening to the bustle of men and women, travelers and merchants.

He felt someone staring at him, and, looking around, noticed a child standing next to him, perhaps seven or eight. He frowned at her and she stared back, some sort of steely determination in her eyes.

Then, before he could even think about doing or saying anything, she tapped him on the leg and ran off, out the door where a group of more children were waiting for her, squealing with laughter the whole way.

He didn’t have time to make anything of that before Jaskier sidled up next to him, loudly proclaiming that he was famished before digging into his breakfast.

“You know, word has traveled that you’ve been staying here.” He told Geralt. “People have been coming and going, trying to meet you, I think some of them had monster trouble too. I think they wanted to hire you.” Geralt hummed in response.

“Will you go?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh, my uncle wants you over for dinner again; he also asked if you would help replant one of the fields today.” He asked with a small smile.

“Nothing better to do, I guess.” Geralt grunted.

“That’s the spirit.” Jaskier sing-songed right before cramming the rest of his food in his mouth.

Once they finished they walked out of the tavern together.

“I have something to tell you; and something to ask you.” Jaskier said timidly. Geralt waited and saw him open his mouth to say more when suddenly he felt someone smack him on the bottom from behind, it surprised him, so much that he actually stumbled forward a step.

When they both turned they saw a little boy standing there, and sure enough, his friends waiting for him a little way off.

“Well, are you going to apologize?” Jaskier asked the boy, who simply took off, following his friends. Jaskier ran after him with a shout of “Hey!”

“Leave it, it doesn’t matter.” Geralt tried to stop him.

“It matters to me!” He shouted over his shoulder.

Jaskier’s long legs allowed him to easily catch up to the boy, his friends abandoning him to his fate, but once he did he seemed to be having a hard time keeping him still.

Geralt watched in slight embarrassment as Jaskier and the boy practically wrestled on the ground, grunts of “apologize to my mate” and “you weasel-faced runt” coming out from the mass of limbs. Even more embarrassing, it seemed that Jaskier was losing.

Eventually the boy got free and ran off.

“I know where you live, and when you sleep! I’ll get you!” Jaskier screamed after him, then he just remained where he was, sat on the ground, panting. Geralt was of course confused by the whole interaction, and what he should do now.

“Jaskier?” Came a little voice beside him. Jaskier turned towards it with the intent of snapping something out, when he saw the little girl, much younger than all the others.

“What is it Dove?” He asked after a sigh. She glanced at Geralt, then went over to Jaskier to whisper something in his ear.

“Oh, well, we can ask him.” He responded. He got up and, taking the girl by the hand, walked over to Geralt.

“Dove would like to ask if you can see about a monster that’s hiding in her room.”

Geralt looked down at the girl, hiding behind Jaskier’s legs, her orange hair framing her freckled face; he briefly wondered why she was called Dove. He got down on one knee in front of them.

“Nothing would bring me greater honour, than to be of your service, my Lady.” His words had the desired effect.

“I’m not a lady.” She giggled.

For the next hour or so Geralt busied himself in checking every nook and cranny of the girl’s bedroom, under the bed, in her closet, in the back of each drawer of her dresser. Every now and then he looked back at her, in the doorway with Jaskier, and she would point to another corner for him to check.

Eventually, after having checked everywhere twice, he had to call it quits.

“No monsters here.” He told her.

“What if it comes back at night?” She asked worried, her brown eyes big and shiny.

“Hm, I might have something for you.” He rummaged in his pockets until he found a glass vial. “A powerful charm, to protect you while you sleep.”

“It’s empty.” She frowned as she took it.

“Not empty. It’s filled with faerie’s breath. Faeries are notorious for chasing away monsters. Keep it close when your scared, and it will keep you safe.”

As they left the house he noticed Jaskier kept glancing at him, biting his lips to stop a wide smile from spreading out.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Jaskier looked away, then looked back a second later. “I just think what you did was very sweet.” He continued, to which Geralt only hummed.

He didn’t think it was particularly sweet, he figured any grown man would be able to help comfort a small child.

From there they met up with Jaskier’s uncle to do some work on the field, Geralt’s presence surprising the other men. Unsurprisingly the work went by twice as fast with his help; he noticed again Jaskier staring every now and then, smiling like he knew some secret that Geralt didn’t.

It was still light out when the new crops were planted and watered in the freshly tilled soil, so Jaskier decided it would be a perfect opportunity for a quick nap before dinner. As they were nearing the inn Geralt remembered something.

“What were you going to tell me?” He asked.

“Hm?” Jaskier stopped just outside the door, giving Geralt his full attention.

“Before. You said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Yes, that thing, well…” He paused to look around, make sure nobody was listening.

“Well… remember when I said that some people came to hire you? Well I told you that because… in a few weeks, a couple actually, it’s… well it’s… my heat is coming, in a couple of weeks.” He stuttered and took a deep breath. He didn’t look at Geralt as he continued.

“And just in case you didn’t want to be here , you could leave for a few days, I wouldn’t mind… But if you wanted to stay, for it, I wouldn’t mind that either…” He finished quietly.

Geralt was speechless, just to make a difference; Jaskier was offering up his heat, his first time, while also giving him a choice to be elsewhere. It should have been the opposite, him giving Jaskier the choice.

The right thing to do would be to leave, but Geralt found that, thinking about it, he would not be able to, not for a day, not for an eternity.

_The Omega in the woods will be with you always._

“Jaskier-“ He started, but was cut off when someone yelled his own name.

“Geralt of Rivia! What have you gotten yourself into.” Came a silky smooth voice, he turned to see the last person he ever expected.

“Yen?” A smile slowly spreading across his face.

“I didn’t want to believe the rumors were true, surely you would have invited _me_ to your wedding.”

Jaskier watched as the dark woman walked, no, _glided_ toward them, deep violet eyes, and wearing a gown far too beautiful to be even seen by the likes of him.

“Honestly, I’m a little heartbroken.” He then watched as the Witcher smiled, not a lack-of-a-frown type of smile, but a full wide teeth-showing smile, and embraced the woman, quite enthusiastically.

“Yen! I’m so happy you’re here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	14. The Uninvited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late, late, late update. I was terribly stuck on this chapter, and I apologize again if the quality is lacking.  
> I hope everyone is being safe, with everything that is happening in the world, stay true to what you believe is right.  
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, and to everyone who is simply enjoying the story, hopefully the next chapter will come sooner.   
> Enjoy!

Jaskier stared from his slouched position at the table, fisted hand holding up his face, as the two apparent companions talked quite animatedly amongst themselves.

What had started as a simple retelling of how the two met, for Jasker’s benefit, had quickly become a fun trip down memory lane, a trip he was not invited to apparently.

It wasn’t that he was being ignored, he just had no idea what an Echinops was, or a Fleder, or a Drowner, or any of the other things the two had great fun defeating together.

Besides, he wasn’t exactly paying attention; all of his concentration went to schooling his features to make it _seem_ like he was paying attention and genuinely happy to be meeting one of Geralalt’s… _friends_.

His mask kept slipping back into a glare whenever he caught the woman’s – _Yen’s_ – hand wander to over to Geralt’s arm or shoulder, or after a particularly funny joke, slapping his chest playfully.

Jaskier was not jealous. He was just very, very angry at the fact that this woman could so effortlessly make the witcher smile and laugh, something that Jaskier had yet to achieve.

It made him realize that Geralt was probably more miserable than he let on, that perhaps a friendly and familiar face had brought him comfort and relief. And Jaskier could understand that, he could, even if he didn’t know how deep that friendship went; and while it seemed that they were just very good friends, Jaskier suspected there was more to it.

Perhaps Geralt and Yennefer were lovers; it made sense, they were both powerful and attractive people, and they bickered like and old married couple. And to say the sexual tension was palpable would be an understatement.

“Tonight? I’m not doing anything tonight.” He heard Geralt say, having completely missed the subject of conversation.

“My uncle is expecting us for dinner.” Jaskier piped up, the two turned to look at him and he watched with a growing pit of guilt as Geralt practically deflated.

“But um, you must join us of course.” He quickly added, seeing him lite up again. He spared Jaskier a quick smile then turned back to Yennefer.

He sighed as they continued whatever conversation they were having, making no effort now to pretend to be listening. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to be feeling this way, except for the mark on his own neck, he had no real claim over the Alpha, especially in the physical sense.

He just thought there was something happening between them, but now, seeing Yennefer, he realized he never even had a chance. Whatever he was feeling, it was just one sided.

His mood didn’t improve once they got to his uncle’s house. He was sure yen was not a bad person, as first impressions went she seemed quite lovely, beautiful and smart, the kind of person Jaskier would aspire to be and look up to.

But when she walked in the house, before everyone else, she presented herself as “Yennefer of Vengerburg”, as if his uncle was supposed to know who that was, took a quick look around the house and said “What a lovely…home, you have here.” In the same condescending tone one might tell a child “ _what a lovely mud pit you’ve dug, mind your clothes_.”

His sister raised her eyebrows at her back then pointed the look at Jaskier, her expression screaming _“who the fuck is this peacock?!”_ All he could do was shrug.

Dinner was anything but quiet this time around, after Jaskier and Jilly scrounged up an extra plate of food for their new guest; and now Jaskier had no doubt about the nature of their relationship, after a recounting of one of their adventures hunting something called a Cokatrice Yen broke in saying “I don’t remember that one; I do remember what we did later that night though.” With a smile and slight wiggle of her eyebrows.

He tried to block out most of their conversation after that, though he did notice his uncle was fascinated by their tales; he was forced back in a while later after he heard them make plans to leave the next morning.

“You’re leaving?” He asked.

“Just to the next town over.” Geralt said after staring at him blankly for a couple of seconds. “There’s a bounty I’d like to take on. You did suggest it, remember?”

“I did? I- must’ve slipped my mind.” Jaskier mumbled.

Later on, when they returned to the inn Jaskier went straight to their room while Geralt and Yennefer decided to stay in the tavern, to catch up.

_All they’ve been doing is catch up_. He thought bitterly, while he lay in bed, waiting for Geralt to come up. He didn’t, and Jaskier must have fallen asleep at some point, because next thing he knew it was morning, and most of Geralt’s things were gone.

* * *

“Are you not following him up?” Yen asked with a suggestive raised eyebrow, watching Jaskier ascend the stairs.

“I don’t need to go to sleep yet.” Geralt answered simply.

“Sleep? If that’s what you want to call it, I would have thought you to be quite enthusiastic to… _sleep_.” She smiled, but then noticed that Geralt had no idea what she was speaking of; his confused face was basically a scowl, and once she would have found it adorable.

“Didn’t he seem upset to you?” She tried a different approach.

“He’s often upset. He’s fine after a while.”

“I meant because of me. Wait, often? Don’t you ever comfort him?”

“Why would he be upset because of you?” He asked.

“Didn’t you see the holes he was glaring into me whenever I came near you?” She rolled her eyes. “And don’t change the subject, I hope you’re not being a bad alpha to that poor boy.”

“He’ll be fine.” He said firmly; it certainly wasn’t the first time Jaskier was upset, although he couldn’t fathom why he would be now. He would often be sad or angry if someone said something to him, but he would eventually bounce back into his cheery self.

There was no reason for Geralt to be worried. “Tell me about this contract.”

* * *

“Don’t suppose he left any messages for me?” Jaskier asked Lottie when he came down for breakfast.

“Nope.” She said while stacking plates and mugs behind the counter. He supposed it was a longshot to hope for it.

“By the way, what did you do to chase him away with that woman?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” She gave him a pitying look.

Going out to meet his uncle was awkward, he could feel people staring at him, as usual word travelled fast. He wasn’t usually in the habit of letting things like this get to him, usually, but this time it was harder.

* * *

Geralt hauled the body of the Necrophage behind him; someone wasn’t content to snack in graveyards anymore it seemed. He quickened his pace, the body was already starting to stink.

The expression _you are what you eat came to mind_ , it sounded like something Jaskier would say.

Though he always preferred hunting alone, he had to admit that whenever Yennefer accompanied him it made the job go easier; her help mostly consisted of backup magic and better quality potions, and whenever she stayed behind at camp there would always be something warm and fresh for him to eat.

Once their camp was in sight he didn’t stop, he slung the dead creature over Roach’s saddle and started gathering his things.

“Are we leaving already?” Yen asked from beside the fire.

“If we leave now, we can collect the reward before it gets too late, make it back to Aleria before nightfall.” He grunted out while securing the dead creature with rope.

“Is your little morsel waiting for you in your bed?” She teased, as she had been for the whole day. For some reason she though Geralt was keeping the specifics of his relations with Jaskier a secret, and kept jabbing at him with jokes and innuendos.

“I haven’t cleared the bounty in Aleria yet.” He said, ignoring her previous comment and began leading Roach back to the road; he had managed to convince the alderman of this small town to give him a couple barrels of ale in exchange of the bounty, more for himself really, if he had to stay in that dry town a moment longer he would probably lose his mind.

He spoke to Yen about the situation, asking if there was anything she might know about that could cause such destruction and simply disappear without a trace.

“It could be a dragon.” She suggested.

“Hm, maybe, but there’s no mountains for it to hide in for miles, and to go such a long way to target one small town?” He argued.

“Maybe someone angered it?”

“It’ a good guess, but there’s been no attacks since I arrived.” Which was the strangest part, besides people could see dragons, even at night.

“So it’s sentient. And smart enough to recognize that you’re a wicther, and so it’s just waiting for you to leave, biding it’s time…”

“Which is why I need to be back before nightfall.” He was beginning to think it was no monster at all.

* * *

They made it in time before nightfall, the people celebrated the great hero of Aleria for bringing back the ale; they offered him to eat the fresh pick of the day, black cherries, and even offered the first mug of ale to thank him, and as tempted as he was for it all he wanted was to sleep.

He retired early to his room, his and Jaskier’s. The boy appeared soon after, looking like he had run up the stairs, to find Geralt cleaning his swords and armor.

“I just heard that you’re back.” He said in his cheery, if out of breath, tone. “How’d it go? The hunt?”

“Fine.” Geralt answered simply. Jaskier waited for a few beats in case he said anything more, when he didn’t he slumped a little where he stood.

“Oh. Good.” He said. “Have you thought about…” He started, but when he noticed Geralt didn’t seem to be paying attention he changed the subject.

“It was good of you, to bring the ale I mean. Because, well, tomorrow is solstice. It’s nothing special really, but nobody will be working, so…they’ll probably spend the day drinking… so it was good of you…” He trailed off. Not even Jaskier knew what he was going on about.

Geralt didn’t pause in his work, didn’t look up while Jaskier spoke, didn’t answer.

“I thought, if you joined us, we could-“

“Yen found us another bounty for tomorrow. I’ll be back by nightfall.” Geralt interrupted, finally finished, putting his things away with his still packed bags.

“Oh…good.”

* * *

Geralt took contracts for the next few days; he and Yen would leave as the sun came up and return just before it went down. That’s what Jaskier assumed anyway; he had barely seen the two since they started adventuring together again.

He would sometimes walk into the tavern and see them sitting at a table, busy in conversation. He would take a step toward them, wanting to join them, ask what deadly creature they had defeated on that day. But something always stopped him.

Perhaps it was the way Geralt smiled, the way Yennefer laughed, throwing her elegant head back, or even simply the way other people looked at the scene, as if Jaskier would be the odd one out.

A couple of times he would wake during the night, his nose burning from the scent of lilac and gooseberries covering Geralt. It wasn’t the scent itself that bothered him, it was who it belonged to, and the thought of how it got on Geralt that did.

He could smell her on the Alpha more than he ever smelled himself on him.

He kept telling himself that he shouldn’t care, that it was none of his business, that the Alpha never belonged to him; but he also couldn’t help feel hurt in some way.

He knew he wasn’t much to look at, but the way Geralt looked at Yennefer, with so much happiness and attention, while at most he had given Jaskier half a glance the whole time he’d been here, again it hurt.

His nearing heat made things worse, he felt lonely and rejected, highly sensitive to the things people were saying about him, about how the Witcher was a good man and it must be Jaskier’s fault if he chose to find comfort with another woman.

“Couldn’t keep a husband if they were chained together.” They would say, and laugh.

He stopped soul-sharing, he figured he owed Geralt some privacy; he would tire easily from working in the fields now, so he spent the majority of his time under the fruit trees or in his uncle’s stable. It somehow seemed emptier without Roach in it.

On one particular afternoon he took his music box with him, the only thing of Geralt that he could truly keep. He wanted to think of some words to go with the tune, hoping it would take his mind off his own misery.

He wasn’t having much luck, as all he could come up with would sound morose and depressing; he was winding it up for the dozenth time when it was suddenly taken from his hands.

“Oh how sweet, is the little girl listening to music?” Modred and his friends guffawed at the lame insult, as he shook the box by his ear making the mechanism inside rattle.

“Modred, give it back! Please!” Jaskier said while standing, he didn’t think his mood was stable enough to deal with the bully. Modred’s smile fell and he turned serious.

“Alright fine, here.” He held the box out and just as Jaskier reached back to take it, he dropped it on the ground with an exaggerated “Oops”, and when Jaskier started bending down to retrieve it he crushed it under his boot.

“Oh dear, I’m ever so sorry.” Modred mocked after he gasped. He turned to leave, laughing along with his friends. He took no more than a few steps before he was tackled from behind by Jaskier.

The two fell to the ground, Modred face down with Jaskier on his back punching him in the back of the head and shoulders.

“Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone?!” He screamed. He felt someone grab him, try to lift him off of the other boy, which was a mistake since Jaskier simply grabbed fistfuls of his hair and dragged him along.

“Jaskier, let go!” It was Geralt. He did let go, but only after he heard Modred let out a high pitched scream.

He went limp in Geralt’s arms and watched as Modred got up from the ground, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction when he saw his face covered in blood and dirt.

“You two freaks deserve eachother!” He snarled, but his voice cracked like he was trying not to cry.

“Jaskier, what the hell was that about?” Geralt demanded after Modred and his friends left. Jaskier could feel he was bout to cry himself, and not wanting Geralt to see how pathetic he’d become struggled to be released from the hold, running away after he got free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	15. Misery loves Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, this one will be short I'm afraid, I apologize, you guys deserve better!  
> Thanks a million to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, and to everyone who simply enjoys.  
> The next chapter should be a bit happier.  
> Enjoy!!

Geralt had missed the thrill of the hunt. The past few days had done wonders to his cabin fever, his mood improving with every successful kill, as well as his coin purse getting heavier. After weeks of nothing but traipsing through endless woods with nothing to show for it, he was feeling like himself again.

Aleria was starting to thrive again, what little they managed to grow was sold or traded for things they needed more, which was why he had come back early this day. He heard the apothecary in town had finally come into a shipment of herbs and ingredients that would be quite useful to Geralt.

“Tell Jaskier I’m sorry again.” Said the beta, filling up a small pouch with the things he needed. “I have all the ingredients now for a third batch, but it would be too late for him to take it.” She continued.

“Too late for what?” He asked curiously, he didn’t know Jaskier was ill, surely he would have smelled it before now.

“The suppressant. For his heat, didn’t he tell you about it? It should come in a few days, and there wasn’t enough Asphodel for him and the two girls this season, what with everything that happened. So Jaskier gave up his share for them.” She explained, and suddenly Geralt remembered Jaskier inviting him to share his heat; he assumed he’d changed his mind since he was keeping his distance.

He had the vague suspicion he was wrong now.

He was about to turn and leave when the healer spoke up again.

“It’s a good thing you’ll be here with him, most Alpha’s feel that consent is a given when it comes to a heat.” He didn’t need to hear anymore. He rushed out, pouch of ingredients in hand, and set about finding Jaskier; it didn’t take him long, though he heard him before he saw him.

He stalled for a moment, seeing the Omega tackle the Alpha, he was tempted to see where the fight would lead to. In the end he decided to intervene, whatever happened Jaskier would probably get the blame.

He was definitely confused when Jaskier struggled out of his grasp and ran away, he started to follow him when his foot hit something metallic, looking down he saw the remains of the music box he had gifted the Omega on their wedding night.

He picked up the splintered wood and twisted metal, not needing to guess what had happened.

“Ad I thought this place was going to be boring.” Came Yen’s voice from behind him. “Your mate is really something.” She said with a smirk once she was closer.

“Yeah…I think he may be a little angry.” Geralt said slowly.

“Well, you can’t take all the blame, I did drag you along to hunt monsters.” She admitted.

“I should speak to him. Maybe you could go first?” He asked hopefully.

“Are you kidding? If I go near him I’m going to walk away looking like that.” She pointed at Modred’s retreating form, he definitely had a broken nose.

“Why?” He asked, dumbly by the look Yen was giving him.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” She waited for him to respond, but when he gave her nothing but a blank face she facepalmed.

“Gods! I would smack you if I didn’t think your head was thick enough to keep the sense from being knocked into it. Go to him, apologize, tell him he’s the only one for you, get on your knees, anything to convince him, and then just stay with him. Comfort him for once.”

“Right. Yes.” He said, only half convinced. He had never been one to apologize, or admit to being wrong, mostly because he felt he never had to. He was now starting to doubt that, and he wasn’t even entirely sure why.

Jaskier had gone back to their room at the inn, he was sitting on the bed as Geralt walked in, he scrubbed his face and kept his gaze low, to hide the fact that he was crying, but Geralt could smell the salt still clinging to his face, could smell the hurt and sadness.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt said after a few minutes of silence. Jaskier gave him a side glance but aid nothing. Well, so far so good.

“You’re…the only one for me.” He said stiffly; he figured that parroting what Yen had said might work, and he was about to drop down to his knees when Jaskier scoffed.

“Think you have me confused with someone else.” He said. “What do you mean?” Geralt asked, confused, and Jaskier faced him, an incredulous and confused look of his own, his eyes were red.

“You don’t have to pretend for my sake. Everyone knows anyway.” He said miserably, but Geralt was just lost, what did everybody know? Did they somehow find out that Geralt hadn’t killed the monster yet?

“And I’m sorry I’ve been acting this way since she arrived.” Jaskier continued. She? Yen?

Geralt’s eyes widened as he finally realized what was going on. “You think me and Yen…” He started, his thoughts confirmed when Jaskier looked away again. “There’s nothing going on between me and Yen-“

“Stop. I can smell her on you every time you come back, I see the way you look at her.” He paused to get up, but he just stood still by the bed. “I know I shouldn’t care, but in the eyes of everyone here you’re married to me.”

“What does that matter, everyone know that given the choice I would never marry you.” Geralt snapped, immediately knowing that had been the wrong thing to say, he didn’t need to see the look on Jaskier’s face.

He was angry that Jaskier thought he was sleeping with Yennefer, angry at himself for the way he acted and making the Omega assume what he did, angry at the people from the village for making him miserable in his own home. He just didn’t know how to express his anger in a way that wasn’t against the people around him.

“I didn’t mean…” Geralt started.

“But you were given a choice, so why did you?” Jaskier asked, his eyes filling up again. And Geralt had no time to answer. “Why didn’t you just leave us to starve and die?”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“No, I don’t!” Jaskier suddenly yelled. “I don’t know a thing about you. From the moment you came here you’ve been in the woods, and when you are here I’m afraid to ask you anything, in case you don’t want me to know but tell me anyway out of some sense of duty.”

His tears were falling and he was furiously wiping them away as they did.

“What I do know is that this isn’t the place you want to be in, which is why I understand that having her here makes you so happy. So I know I shouldn’t be angry or upset, but…” He trailed off.

Geralt knew he should apologize, this was ultimately his fault. But he didn’t know how. In all his years of life he had never been taught, never learned how to be gentle.

Jaskier walked over to the dresser and, pulling out an empty bag from the bottom drawer, began packing his things.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked.

“My heat is coming.” Jaskier answered without pausing. “Ad since I’ll be spending it alone, I’d rather do it some place familiar. I’m going home.”

Geralt wanted to argue that he would stay with him, he wouldn’t be alone, but then Jaskier was walking out.

“Have a good hunt Geralt.” He said over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	16. The Day and Night of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, sorry this is late again, but this one is super long!!  
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments, and everyone who is enjoying in silence, couldn't do this without you.  
> P.S. Super important note at the end so stick around to see what its about.  
> Enjoy

Going back home was starting to feel like a mistake. Everything around him was cold and stale, he hadn’t been back in his old room for such a long time that his own smell had faded. So for the better part of the night Jaskier stayed awake in a futile attempt at making a nest that wouldn’t make him cry every few minutes.

He tried rubbing the sheets and blankets on himself, when that didn’t work he tried covering his pillows with his own clothes; since they were all still stuffed in his bag he proceeded to pull them out.

He was getting increasingly frustrated when he found a shirt that didn’t belong to him. If the larger size wasn’t a giveaway the smell surely was, he must have accidentally put Geralt’s shirt away with his own after mending it.

He pressed his face into the shirt and found himself instantly calmed. Since when was his own smell, the smell of his home, not enough anymore?

He put the shirt on, his stomach settling and feeling warm at the fact it swamped him, and finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Geralt stayed up all night thinking of ways to make it up to Jaskier. Of course never having apologized to anyone so important, and not, before, he realized he’d be going in blind.

He had asked Yen for help, hoping that a woman’s advice might shed some light on his predicament.

“As refreshingly sexist as that is, I think it’ll be more rewarding if you figure this out yourself.” She had stated, leaving Geralt alone in his time of need. He could do this, he’d faced monsters as big as towers and as evil as the denizens of hell, he could face one angry Omega.

The first thing to do would be to apologize of course. A real apology, an explanation; he spent hours rehearsing a speech that he kept altering, eventually he figured that improvising something would probably sound better than anything he came up with beforehand.

The next thing to do would be to bring a gift, Omegas liked gifts, right? But once again his experience in the subject was null. He’d given gifts before, to women and other Omegas, but most of them were prostitutes that preferred exotic sweets or coin. In fact, they all liked coin.

And there was Yennefer, of course, but he didn’t think Jaskier would appreciate monster organs for witchcraft. And as far as Geralt knew he didn’t seem to want jewels or baubles.

He had simple tastes, only wanted what he needed, and Geralt regretted never taking the time to speak to him, get to know him and find out what he loved.

Jaskier loved music, that much he knew, and he wasn’t materialistic, which would make everything harder.

Near dawn he finally decided that he couldn’t go wrong with flowers; they were pretty, and smelled nice, and their delicate state and quickness to wilt reminded of how short and fragile life truly is, so why not forgive and forget while you still have the chance…

He could feel people staring as he went about picking all he could find, he supposed he made quite the ludicrous image, a big and scary witcher picking flowers from the side of the road. But he would face the humiliation if it meant Jaskier forgave him.

Outside of Toben’s house he saw Jaskier’s sister, Jilly, hanging damp laundry on a line at the side of the house.

He approached her first, instead of going to the front door directly. She saw him coming and gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry. He specifically told me not to let you in.” She said when he was close enough. Geralt sighed heavily, so much for that.

“Is there anything I could say that would make him consider speaking to me?” He asked.

“Not right now, he’s pretty stubborn when he wants to be, and when he doesn’t. Look, it’s fair to say he’s being a bit too overly dramatic; he’s upset and it’s his _season_ so he thinks he’s entitled to feel the way he does. My advice is to wait until it’s over and try then.” Geralt sighed again.

“I have no idea how to do this.” He said, gesturing with his hand to nothing in particular.

“If its any consolation neither does he.” Jilly said with a small smile.

“Would you give him these, from me?” He then asked holding out the – quite impressive if you asked him – bunch of flowers he picked.

“He’s not gonna like those…” Jilly cringed and Geralt lowered his arm, defeated. “Because the only flowers he likes are yellow.” She continued. “Unfortunately none of those grow in town.”

Geralt looked down at the flowers in his hand and noticed for the first time that none of them were yellow. Strangely enough Jilly was right, no yellow flowers grew in town.

She looked up at the house quickly before talking again. “Look, I’m not saying he’ll immediately forgive you with open arms if you do, but if you’re serious about making up, you’ll get him a yellow flower.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to find one?” He asked, suddenly nervous with anticipation.

“Surely you’ve seen some in the woods?” She asked, and Geralt had no idea if he had, he went in there looking for monsters not flowers.

“Any yellow flower will do, they’re very important to him.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I…can’t say, they just are.” “Right, yellow flowers, how hard can it be to find some?” He asked himself.

As it turns out, it would be harder than he thought.

* * *

Jaskier watched from his window as Geralt walked away; he didn’t hear what he and his sister talked about, but even if he could he would have been distracted by the battle he was fighting against his own nature.

A big part of him wanted to run out to Geralt, embrace him, hide within him, give him everything. The smaller part of him, what was left of his rational mind, kept telling himself that he was only feeling this way because of his heat; that even if he ran out to the Alpha and indulged in Jaskier’s needs, he would ultimately reject him again, only this time it would hurt more.

The heat that pooled up when Geralt arrived was immediately replaced by a different kind of heat when he walked away, a feverish heat that made him shiver and whine a little in protest.

It had been a few years since he experienced his last heat, couldn’t say he missed it too much.

The smell on Geralt’s shirt had quickly faded and by morning everything around him had gone back to being awful.

The bed was too narrow, the mattress too firm one minute then not firm enough the next, the pillows felt both greasy and scratchy, he kept having to change position to get comfortable , his mating bite would ache on occasion, and the list went on.

He had been entertaining the idea of going back to the inn, where the bed in their room would smell of the two of them, for how long would that be enough? A day or two? Less?

And how long until another Alpha caught wind of him being up there alone and decided to help themselves.

Despite his discomfort he was still sensible enough to know that staying where he was with his uncle to protect him was the best choice.

He would spend the day fidgeting and shifting between short naps riddled with fever dreams, dreams of his Alpha, his strong scent around him, his powerful body protecting him.

* * *

Geralt wanted to burn down the woods himself. And if he didn’t find what he was looking for soon he would snap and do just that.

Crawling around in the muck and grime of the forest floor had left hm dirty and clammy, there was a thorned branch stuck in his hair and the pointy, itchy feeling on his ear was driving him to madness, but he didn’t dare stop.

He had yet to find a fucking yellow flower.

He was a little worried that once he did spot one he would stomp on it out of spite and frustration, but then he would just imagine Jaskier’s face after he was presented with a crushed flower. It was a good balance.

It seemed the flower was just as elusive as the monster, he supposed it made sense, since there was very little sunlight coming through the trees, but there were plenty of other flowers growing about the place; blue, pink, blood red, deep green, all of them except yellow. They practically mocked him.

Many times he considered giving up and just bringing back some orange ones, in the right light they might look yellow; but they were important to Jaskier for a reason, he couldn’t bring back second best.

His saving grace finally came, when out of nowhere a small beam of light, penetrating the green canopy above, fell onto a bright dandelion, its green leaves being eaten by an enthusiastic deer.

He ran at the deer, barking out a shout to scare it off, tripping when he couldn’t slow down fast enough and almost stomped on the thing.

He fell to his knees infront of it and let out a long relieved sigh. He was about to just pick the dandelion when he thought it might not survive the journey back. So he pulled out his small knife and used it to dig around the flower, picking up the whole clump of earth it was growing out of.

Then, having nothing else to carry it with, took off his boot and put it in there. He then began the long track back to the village.

“Fuck!” He swore, after his bare foot stepped on a thistle.

* * *

It wasn’t too late when he made it back to the village, barely sundown. His bare foot hurt from all the things he’d stepped on, his clothes were filthy from crawling around all day, his hair still had thorns in it and all he wanted was to take a hot bath, but that would have to wait.

Toben answered the door after he knocked, his boot with the flower in it at his side. He was briefly reminded of his first night in Aleria, when he first saw Jaskier. The nervousness he felt back then was nothing compared to what he felt now.

“There you are.” Toben said with a stern face. “I was wondering where you’d run off to. I have half a mind to not let you in at all after what you’ve done.” The two stared at each other for a few seconds, while Geralt tried giving his best intimidating glare; he was sure it only came off as mildly irritated, plus he was slightly worried that he would actually be locked out, so his heart wasn’t into it.

Eventually Toben sighed and moved out of the doorway.

“Well you’d better come in. I think he needs you.” He said and pointed down the hall to a closed door.

Geralt prepared himself with a deep breath and was immediately hit with the thick, sweet scent of Jaskier’s heat. It made him both dizzy and hyper alert, not unlike his potions; he had to stop himself from breaking the door down, his throat felt dry and in his mind the only thing that would quench the burning would be his Omega.

He took a few more seconds to compose himself, remembering his boot in his hands. He knocked on the door.

“I’m not hungry.” Jaskier said from the other side.

“It’s me.” Geralt said and was answered with silence. Jaskier wanted to tell Geralt to go away, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out, so Geralt continued.

“I brought you something.” He said then immediately cringed, even he knew that wasn’t going to work.

“I owe you an apology, Jaskier. I have no excuse but…if you let me, I’d like to explain everything to you.” He waited. And just when he thought he should probably leave he heard movement, something being shifted on the ground, then the door unlocked and opened a crack.

Jaskier peeked through the gap, his eyes were red and his cheeks flushed; when he opened the door wider Geralt could see that his hair was in disarray, and he was wearing one of his shirts, he guessed, since the thing was a few sizes too big.

And his smell, all Geralt wanted to do was put his mouth on him, taste his skin and lips. But he held back, he was rather proud of his self control.

“I want my gift first.” Jaskier said with a slight pout, so Geralt handed over his boot.

Understandably the boy was confused at first, but then he saw the flower and for the briefest of moments he seemed to brighten up at it, but after he took the boot and slowly walked over to his bed – an attempt had been made to make a nest – to sit on it, he turned sad again.

He sniffled as he gingerly passed his finger over the bright petals, while Geralt stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“One flower isn’t going to make everything good again.” So he was back to angry.

“Right um…” Geralt stammered as he hastily walked in and closed the door behind him, he noticed a chair beside it, probably what he heard shifting before, and sat in it.

“About me and…Yen.” Geralt started, he assume he had Jaskier’s attention, he was still focused on the flower.

“You remember how we met, after I found the Djinn and accidentally put a curse on the closest town, and she helped me lift it. That’s not where it ends. You see, I lied to her, I hadn’t yet made all the whishes, I didn’t trust her yet. So when she tried to gain control of the Djinn and almost destroyed herself I whished for our destinies to be joined, forever.”

He took a breath, this had been the most he talked ever, and his throat had already gone scratchy. Jaskier still looked sad, looking at his flower. What Jaskier was thinking in that moment was that if he had been there, with them, Geralt would probably have made that same whish, that he would choose her always. Forever.

“So for a long time we kept meeting; we would hunt together, and…we would sleep together.” He paused again, watching as a frown crept up on Jaskier’s face.

“But after a while it was pretty clear that it wouldn’t work like that forever, that we would be better as friends. And I haven’t felt for anyone what I thought I felt for her since. Until I met you.” Jaskier looked up, surprised. Geralt redyed himself again, this was the hard part.

“When I said I didn’t have a choice, when we married, it’s because when I first saw you…it felt as though everything inside me fell into place, and if I left I would fall into chaos again. I don’t know how to explain it. And I left with Yen because I’m a Witcher, and the hunt is what I was made for…but I think I was also made for you, and you for me.”

He looked at Jaskier again, t see he was staring back, tears in his eyes. He thought he’d messed up again when Jaskier spoke finally.

“Okay I forgive you.” He said in a shaky voice and Geralt let out a breath of relief. “And I’m sorry, that I thought-“

“No, don’t be, don’t ever be sorry; since the beginning I haven’t been clear with my intentions.” All Geralt wanted now was to be closer to the Omega, his skin itched to touch his.

“Will you please stay? I don’t think I could bare it if you left again.” Jaskier asked and Geralt felt a stab of shame at how small and helpless he sounded.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, and if you’ll allow it, I’d very much like to share your heat.” His heart pounded faster and painfully, of course if Jaskier said no he would respect his whish, but he also really, really hoped he would say yes.

“I’ll allow it.” Jaskier said while vigorously nodding his head. And then, like they were being pulled by the same string, the two got up from where they were sitting and met in the middle of the room.

Geralt leaned in first, feeling almost physical pain at having to go so slow; apparently he didn’t need to worry about that as Jaskier practically dove in for it.

Their minds went blank as they kissed, arms around eachother, breaths becoming one.

“Oh no, if you’re going to start this I’d ask you kindly to go somewhere else. I’d like to sleep tonight!” Came his uncle’s voice from the doorway; the two broke apart, Jaskier letting out a breathless laugh, and together they departed for the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gentlemen, everything in-between, and everything that isn't, I think we all know what's about to happen. But I will need your help for this.  
> Getting straight to the point, in regard to what Jaskier has below the belt, I need you guys to vote on what you would like him to have, such as a gentleman's long-john, or a lady's fanny-panny. I noticed that stories with this theme are quite mixed so I thought I'd let the readers choose.  
> Leave a comment on what you would prefer and the majority of the votes will be in the next chapter, look forward to some bad smut, and as always, let me know what you think.


	17. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm not dead! Sorry about the huge wait, work and life have been taking up most of my time. These past few weeks have been one constant unfortunate event after another, so thank you so much for your patience!  
> I did not forget about what you all voted from last chapter, I took some creative liberties and I hope you all enjoy!  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos you give me, I appreciate it loads!!

Jaskier could write a hundred ballads about Geralt’s kiss. It hadn’t even been that deep or heated, it was quite quick really, and all they had time to do before his uncle interrupted them was put their arms around the other, but it was no less earth-shattering for him.

As far as first kisses went, Jaskier could boast that he’d got the best one, and he was more than sure it would get better from there.

The walk to the inn was rapid, both of them eager to be alone in their room, Geralt holding tightly to Jaskier’s hand while Jaskier himself was wondering if this was the first time since being married that they held hands.

Once they entered the inn his demeanor changed. Everyone turned to look at them, Jaskier tried hiding against Geralt’s side and the Alpha put his arm around him, quite possessively.

They walked through quickly enough, Geralt staring down anyone that looked at them for too long.

When they finally made it to their room Geralt locked the door and jammed a chair against it. He then turned toward Jaskier, the two stared at each other in the dark room.

“So, you’ve never…” Geralt spoke first, Jaskier shook his head. “Right. Not that I mind, either way, even if you had…” Geralt babbled on, finally interrupting himself with a small cough. “How do you want to…go about it?” He asked. Jaskier shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’d like to do more kissing.” And to Geralt that did sound like a good idea; he slowly approached Jaskier and when he was close enough he wrapped his hand around the back of his head, the Omega shivered when his thumb brushed against the bite mark, now just a white scar.

The kiss was different this time, it started slow and sweet, their lips brushing softly together, but soon Geralt took control and pushed Jaskier closer, his free arm going around his waist.

Jaskier’s hands went from Geralt’s firm chest to his shoulders to tangle in his hair, where he paused to pull out a twig and give him a questioning look.

“Don’t ask.” Geralt simply said then promptly picked him up. Jaskier gasped and quickly wrapped his legs around his waist, his arms going back around his shoulders; just as well, because the feeling of Geralt’s firm body pressed against him made him feel faint.

They went back to kissing, Geralt’s tongue slipping in between his lips; he shifted his weight to one hand and slipped his now free one under Jaskier’s shirt, his skin burning when he touched it, making him moan.

All of a sudden Jaskier felt himself being dropped on the bed; he looked up from his position, he could Just about see Geralt in the poor light, the sun setting on the other side of the building. He watched the Alpha walk over to the fireplace, he whispered something and the logs caught immediate fire, illuminating the room and Geralt in the process.

The Alpha walked back over to the foot of the bed and very slowly lifted and removed his shirt. Jaskier’s only response was to cover his mouth to try and stifle his gasp. He had of course seen Geralt naked before, when they were scent marking, but the experience was no less thrilling the second time. He hoped it never would be.

“Ohh, lords above.” Jaskier whimpered between his fingers as Geralt toed off his remaining boot and crawled onto the bed, over Jaskier who couldn’t stop himself from splaying his hands over his torso, belly to chest and back down again; he could feel the raised curves of his muscles and the many indents of what could only be scars.

He wasn’t quite sure weather he was allowed to touch the Alpha, he’d often eavesdropped on the local women talk about what their mates liked in bed and the common theme was that the men preferred to pin them down, often from behind, during the experience.

All he knew now was that he would probably die if he didn’t touch Geralt, besides, by the way the Alpha was practically purring in his ear, he didn’t seem to mind it.

Soon Geralts hands joined in, again sliding under the Omega’s shirt – his own shirt – whose skin was quickly heating up, as well as the space between his legs. Instead of divesting the Omega from his clothes Geralt just went back to kissing him, which, yes, it was very nice, but Jaskier kind of wanted to be half naked as well.

It was distracting enough for a while, it made him feel warm and gooey, Geralt’s hands trailing over his belly and sides, up to his rib cage, so it was a surprise when Geralt suddenly pulled away to start kissing along his neck, the side without the bite.

Jaskier twisted his head to the side with a soft groan as Geralt’s lips went lower, down his clothed chest, his hands pushing the shirt up until he was kissing Jaskier’s belly, his rough fingers brushing over his nipples every now and again.

“Geralt, please.” Jaskier breathed out while arching his back upward. In response to that, Geralt pulled his shirt completely off, throwing it in the room’s general direction. He then pressed himself against Jaskier who gasped again at the feeling of their skin meeting. And also because he could feel what was growing under Geralt’s trousers.

It seemed to go on forever, this dance, there was no rush, just hands and lips exploring, feeling, tasting, and then Geralt was sliding down his body again, going lower and lower, stopping to breath in deeply at the smell coming from between his legs.

“Oh Gods, oh Gods.” Jaskier chanted under his breath, his body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out, heat intensifying as Geralt began unlacing his trousers. Once they and his underwear were off he paused to admire the Omega beneath him.

He was unlike any other Omega he had ever bedded; he had a light sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and was lightly muscled from a lifetime of working on a farm, despite that his skin still felt soft and delicate.

Though what he liked most was the fact that Jaskier wasn’t trying to hide himself from his gaze, he seemed to revel in it, and met his eyes with a confident and slightly cocky grin.

In between his legs was a cock, smaller than an Alpha’s or Beta’s but an average size for an Omega, no testicles, which was common for most male Omegas; it was resting against his lower belly, hard and leaking.

Geralt pressed his hand against hi stomach, this time sliding it up, to his chest where he paused to roll his thumb against Jaskier’s nipple, making the boy moan and squirm, then continuing up until he could wrap his hand around his neck; he didn’t squeeze or press down, he just held on to him.

His other hand went down to his prick, slowly moving up and down making the Omega cry out and throw his head back, his ow hands fisting the sheets beneath him.

Suddenly Geralt’s movements paused when he noticed something he hadn’t seen before; he probably would have missed it if his hand weren’t between his legs. He slid his fingers over what he assumed was the boy’s perineum and found them sinking into a hot, wet cunt.

He looked back at Jaskier, his eyes hooded, pupils blown, and without breaking eye contact started once again moving hi hand; starting with one finger – he was far too tight for anything more – he slid inside, deep enough to lightly feel his hymen, curling it against his walls.

Gradually he began to loosen enough to welcome a second finger, and Jaskier’s quiet breathy sighs turned into whines and moans, his hand going up to Geralt’s still around his neck, not to remove it, but to press it down harder; his eyes kept falling shut, his body moving in time with Geralt’s hand, bending his knees so he could push himself onto his fingers deeper.

Geralt could not look away, his flushed face, the sweat reflecting the firelight making him glow, the way his body moved fluidly and the sounds he was making, all of it driving him to the edge, and his trousers weren’t even off yet. He had never been more eager to fuck someone in his entire life.

Jaskier’s moans became louder, Geralt could feel him twitching and pulsing on his fingers, and soon enough he came with a violent shudder, a thin, clear seed staining his navel.

His legs dropped open and he just lay there, panting, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, and Geralt once again couldn’t help but stare, leaning over him.

“Fuck.” Jaskier eventually said. “I’m really gonna enjoy this heat.” Geralt huffed out a laugh in response.

The Omega then opened his eyes and looked up at Geralt, his Alpha; most of his hair had come out of it’s tie and was hanging down, the shadows on his face made his eyes glow intensely, and if Jaskier had more than two braincells left to rub together, he would come up with something better than _muscles big_.

He looked down, noticing for the first time that Geralt was still clothed, so he reached down, looking at him through his lashes while he undid the laces of Geralt’s trousers, biting his lip in delight when he ran his hands over his ass as he pushed them down, it was like touching two perfect, firm globes of marble. He then caught a glimpse of Geralt’s cock and his eyes widened.

He’d never seen another man’s cock before, but throughout his life he’d heard men brag about their length and size countless times, while their wives chuckled at their exaggeration. Jaskier would be able to brag on behalf of his Alpha and proudly do it without lying.

“Oh shit!” He breathed out; not being able to help himself he grabbed it, gasping at how his fingers didn’t even meet in the middle. Jaskier didn’t quite know what he wanted to do with it, he was torn between moving his hand like Geralt had earlier and chocking on it.

In the end he remembered they were in bed together for a reason so proceeded to tug it against him while opening his legs further, mumbling frantically, Geralt could only catch every second word, things like “ _inside_ ” and “ _please_ ”.

Geralt wouldn’t have minded, in fact he was quite pleased at the reaction the Omega was having, if it weren’t for his hands crawling all over his length, alternating between squeezing and pulling; remembering how tight he was on his fingers didn’t help the matter either.

“Jaskier, if you don’t- hmm.” He growled out, interrupting himself when the boy’s hands were suddenly on his balls, marveling at how warm and heavy they felt.

“If I don’t what?” He asked innocently, looking up through his lashes and still using both hands to feel up his testicles.

In one quick movement, he grabbed his hands and brought them up over his head, bringing them closer together, their faces inches apart.

“If you don’t stop, you’ll regret it.” Geralt growled, and Jaskier could feel the rumble of it throughout his body.

“Like how?” He challenged in a whisper. Instead of answering, Geralt shifted so he was holding both the Omega’s hands in one of his and used his free hand to guide himself into Jaskier’s entrance; he started slow, groaning at how tight and warm and wet he felt.

Jaskier groaned too, but in discomfort, it lasted almost two seconds before he was gasping in plesure, squeezing his legs on the sides of his waist and moving his body in that fluid motion. Geralt reached out to join their hands, lacing the fingers together just as their hips met and Jaskier cried out as a second orgasm washed over him, his walls clenching around Geralt who hadn’t even started moving yet, but he could feel the tingly pressure at the base of his member, warning him that he was going to pop his knot soon.

He stayed still a few seconds, letting Jaskier come down from his high, nuzzling the side of his neck where the bite was, listening to him breathing hard.

Once the Omega had caught his breath and was once again limp beneath him, he started moving, slow and deep, bringing out whimpers and whines from Jaskier; every now and then he would lick or suck the bite mark and he would shiver and moan.

Geralt was rather proud of himself for lasting this long, he could feel Jaskier getting close again and when that happened he would not be far behind; he repositioned himself again, holding himself up with his hands on either side of Jaskier’s head to better lever himself int speeding up.

From this position he had a better view of his Omega slowly coming undone; he looked like he was made for this, the way he writhed beneath him looked more like a dance, his moans a song.

Soon enough it became harder for Geralt to thrust all the way in, his knot swelling more rapidly than he was expecting and he had to resort to grinding his way in, Jaskier lifting his hips to help him along.

Just as he felt the telltale tightening of his lower belly and balls he leaned down to bite over his mark on Jaskier’s neck, making him scream as they both came, knot firmly locked in place, the Omega’s arms and legs crossing over his back.

As they waited for the aftershocks to fade, Geralt turned them over so he wouldn’t crush the younger boy, who was still breathing hard, his limb shaking, and covered them with a blanket.

“At least now I know what will shut you up.” Geralt said after several minutes. Jaskier’s laugh was muffled by his chest.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” He commented. “How long des your knot usually last?” He then asked.

“It hasn’t ever lasted this long.” Jaskier laughed again, when he looked up he stopped.

“You’re serious? It’s been five minutes.” Geralt simply shrugged, placing an arm behind his head. Truthfully by this point he’d be dressed and ready to leave, the whore paid generously, and an angry matron screaming him out the door; and Yen was a completely different story.

“Well, don’t I feel special.” Jaskier drawled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


End file.
